Many The Miles
by L. Borealis
Summary: While Mike Wheeler's and El Hopper's trips to Europe could not be any more different, they both found themselves on their final day at the very same space: lonely, dejected, and just ready to go home. Yet by a few absolutely ridiculous twists of fate... all of those feelings are about to change. A Mileven Meetcute.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a perfect trip.

Or, at least… it _should_ have felt that way.

Backpacking through Europe had always been one of El's major life goals, and it had finally happened. With a fresh Bachelor's degree in her pocket and a summer of waitressing tips stuffed into her savings account, she had finally done it. Over the course of the last two months, tick by tick, she had crossed off endless experiences on her bucket list. She'd let herself get lost in the London Tube for days, jumping off whenever the mood struck her, doing nothing more than wandering the back alley streets with wide eyes and adventure in her heart. She'd stood as close as she could to Stonehenge, gaping at the intensity of its mysterious history. She'd stumbled upon street buskers in Brussels, their music filling the air with sounds so sweet that they made her feet stop still and her eyes brim with tears. She'd stared out over countless miles of rural rolling hills from the windows of trains, pastoral fields in The Netherlands and sharp mountains in Switzerland, all filling with snow as the final weeks of her trip passed.

Yet, through all of this El had also found something else on her trip. Something that she hadn't been expecting or been prepared for…

Loneliness.

Absolute crippling loneliness.

It's not that she disliked people, not at all. She just didn't know how to approach them, or how to keep the conversation going alone from there. And it wasn't an issue that she'd dwelled on much before, for she actually really liked spending time with herself. She was good at being her own friend, laughing at her own jokes or writing them in her journal as she whiled away her hours. She liked to lose herself in easy music in her headphones as she wandered the streets, each song serving as a soundtrack to heighten what she saw. She liked to wrap herself in a good book at the end of the day, the fictional characters that she met feeling more like potential friends than anyone who passed her on the street.

Yet, those kinds of friendships had their limits, and this trip had laid those limits bare.

It seemed so silly now, but somehow she'd thought that she would just magically become a different person when she landed in Europe. She'd envisioned herself making fast friends with the girl in the bunk above her in whatever hostel she floated through. She fantasized about meeting locals on the trains who pointed her in the direction of hidden gems off the beaten path. She'd pictured chit chats with the cafe waitresses and new friends made easily at bar tops after long days of travel.

And in her deepest wishes, she'd pictured more. Much more. A handsome stranger, maybe traveling on the same path as her. Nights hand in hand walking the canals. Uncontrollable laughter as they ran through the streets. Heads on each other's shoulders as they rode the trains together through the countryside, their legs propped up on their oversized backpacks and their feet intertwined. Holding each other's gazes over candlelight and wine, her skin prickling with sensation and connection and the thrill of it all… Long languid kisses in the park that didn't need to be interrupted for anything in the world…

This was, however, _not_ how her trip had ended up. Not. At. All.

Instead of making friends with the girl in the bunk above her, she'd watched week after week as _other _girls met each other in the hostel dorms. She marveled at the ease these girls had at becoming fast friends. She averted her eyes sadly as they casually began to plan their days together within a half hour of learning each other's names.

She tried to speak up but couldn't find a way as groups of strangers began to chat in the common rooms, and before she knew it they had run along to pubs or dinner in a mass of jovial laughs and handshakes, leaving her behind as though she hadn't been there at all. In every city, every time.

And handsome strangers? They'd been elusive, or she had been invisible.

After a few weeks El realized that if she was going to have any chance of making any connections at all, she was going to have to change. And she tried. She really did. Unfortunately though, it just became a nerve wracking exercise in making a fool of herself. Anytime she tried to strike up a conversation it fizzled, or worse, it would never take off at all.

As the weeks passed she found herself policing every word that she said, worrying that her thoughts weren't good enough and her stories weren't funny enough. Time and time again she tried and failed to connect with new people. Almost always they zipped off in their own direction and she was left with only herself and a growing sense of anxiety.

How was this_ easy _for some people?

After a few more weeks, the seething loneliness had finally crept under her skin in a way that stuck. It was that issue that had finally made her call her Dad about a week back. Sure, her eyes had just bulged at the shockingly empty bank account staring back at her from the tablet screen, but she could have asked him for cash and he would have begrudgingly helped. Instead, she found herself asking for something different: a new ticket home. Two weeks early.

It was a humbling request that had left her terribly sad. The truth was, though, that she desperately wanted to see her Dad. She ached for her friends at home, too, the few that she had. She wanted to hug every single one of the people that she loved with an intensity that she had never felt before.

And now here, today, finally, she was only minutes away from beginning that final journey home.

Or… maybe not.

People were moving around her in every which way at the airline gate. Hurried feet were dashing to the attendant's desk with a sense that almost felt like a mob, yet El had no idea why. The screen had just shifted and, with an indecipherable speech through the PA speakers, her stomach dropped.

Something was happening. Something significant. Yet, El had no way of knowing what it was.

English had been a predominant language throughout most of her trip, but here in Italy it was a different story. And El, she was lost? Completely unclear as to what was happening.

She stared at the open jet bridge door and moaned. She was so close, but so far away.

Of course this was how it would turn out. Dead broke in a country where she didn't speak the language, completely out of food and money, and in desperate need to just get on the plane. Just one cramped red-eye economy flight with a middle seat in the very back row stood between her and Chicago, where a bit of time freeloading off her step-brother was in order for just a couple of days until her dad had the day off to come and pick her up.

Though Chicago itself was likely to be weird…

_"Why Chicago? Can't I just fly back to Indianapolis?" _

_"Kid, if we fly you into Chicago and I come get you Sunday it'll be $600 cheaper. Just stay with Will for a night."_

Who was she to argue with the man who was willing to shell out the money for her to get home? Yet the truth was she hardly knew her step-brother. She'd only met Will twice. Once at Christmas for three hours the year before and once at her their parent's wedding just before she'd left for her trip in Mid-October. He was nice enough. At least she could have a conversation with him… maybe… unlike anyone on _this_ continent.

Until then, though, all she had left to eat were two measly granola bars in her backpack and nothing more.

Oh, and _the chocolates._

She was NOT about to break into those. They were a treat for home. Scooped up in Paris on a very decadent day one week before, right before she realized that she'd spent almost every dime that she had. They were something special to savor. A memento to help her remember her favorite parts of the trip. She refused to eat them like an ravenous animal on the scratchy carpet of a foreign airport while trying to discern if she was ever going to be able to leave at all.

Yet, she feared that being trapped in the Rome airport might be her destiny, for if she could decipher the body language from the people around her, something was most definitely wrong.

El cringed and drew breath, her voice shaking nervously as it uttered the only Italian that she knew to the person closest to her.

"M- mi scusi? Parli Ingles?"

A middle aged woman looked up from her seat, but her foul expression seemed to scream a silent 'no', her nose upturned as though El was butchering the beauty of the Italian language with her horrendous accent.

Which honestly? She was.

Wincing, El hiked her backpack higher up onto her back and moved closer to the long line that had formed at the gate desk. She paced the edge, her voice at the tip of her tongue, but over and over she stopped herself from asking anyone for help, too nervous and sensing a lack of welcome from each of the frustrated faces that made up the line.

All the while, the line seemed to grow shockingly longer as a voice spoke in quick Italian over a crackly intercom. She bit back a nervous growl as she continued to walk toward the back, her eyes searching each face for a sense of _something _that could make her feel comfortable enough to try her horrible Italian again.

That's when she heard it.

"Do you need help?"

El looked up in surprise as an American accent fell upon her ear from just close enough that she thought maybe it was addressing her. Sure enough, two people back in line stood a tall guy about her age, imploring her curiously.

Black hair, rakishly swept. Pale skin, brushed with freckles. Dark eyes, kind…

"Yes!" she sighed, the word coming from her lips with an odd sense of relief. She trotted down the line about just a bit, looking up to him as she reached him. "Do you um… Do you speak Italian?"

"Um, yeah?" The young man scratched his neck, his eyes darting from the front of the line to her and back again, "I mean, enough to figure out what's going on, I guess."

"Oh! Oh, that's great," El breathed a sigh of relief, "Could you tell me what's going on? I um… I have no idea."

The attendant's voice came over the PA once again and the man looked up to listen. Her words were just as undecipherable to El as they had been the last three times.

Mike grimaced as he looked back down at El, "Well, she's definitely saying that our flight is cancelled,"

"Really?" El cringed.

"Yeah, she's telling everyone to get in this line for rebooking," his hand fumbled on his luggage handle, "Yeah, I'm sorry."

El cursed under her breath. Her stomach growled in anger and her heart dropped nervously. "Okay, well, thank you," she looked at her feet as she hiked her backpack higher up onto her shoulders, "I'll just uh… go to the back of the line, then. Thanks."

"Oh," A sense of surprise laced his voice in a way that made El look back up. He looked toward the end of the long line and then back to her. He was hesitant for a moment before he smiled in an unexpected way. Sheepish. Almost shy…"Do you uh… want to cut here?"

El let out a quiet gasp, "You'll let me cut the line?"

"Yeah! I mean uh, sure!"

El's face lit up brighter than it had in days.

The man wrenched his duffle bag from the ground and stacked it on his suitcase in a hasty fashion to make space for her to stand. El caught a gloriously dirty look from the woman standing behind her new savior, but she tried not to pay attention.

"Thank you _so_ much," she said intently as she stepped into place beside him in the line, "I _really_ appreciate it."

"Oh, yeah. I mean um… no problem. Sure," he stuttered. He gave her a nervous smile once again.

And she returned one, just as nervous. Just as hesitant.

And then… things fell silent.

It was almost instant, the all too familiar creeping insecurity that crawled up her spine. It had become her constant companion over the past couple of months, popping into her mind any time that she found herself in a situation such as this. El chewed on her lip as her fingers shuffled her backpack strap. She watched the man's fingers fumble again against the handle of his silver roller bag.

Her mind replayed all of the ways in which this conversation could die an awkwardly agonizing death.

…But something in her didn't want that, not at all…

"I'm um… I'm El, by the way!" Her voice jumped in pitch as she held out her hand to him with an intense jut.

The young man looked back down to her, blinking fast. "I'm uh… I'm Mike," he took her hand. His grip felt warm, firm, safe. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," she said gratefully.

Mike smiled softly, looking her up and down before he dropped her hand, "So you uh… how did you like Italy? Unless I mean, you caught a connection here? Maybe you didn't travel through Italy at all. That was presumptuous. Sorry, I didn't mean to assume. I just, you know, you're here and you - you have this backpack and — "

It was curious, the way that Mike began to ramble. His words seemed to come faster than his thoughts, each phrase seeming to require his constant revision.

He seemed… nervous.

Just like her…

The similarity served to put El just a bit at ease, and she was surprised to hear an easy laugh come from her mouth. "No, I was here in Italy, you were right," she reassured him, "I've been traveling through Europe for the last couple of months. Just got to Rome a couple of days ago."

"Oh, cool! Right, that's cool." He ran his fingers through his hair and looked away for a split second before he looked back, "Have you uh - been traveling alone this whole time?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. That's… that's really cool."

"Thanks," El felt a soft blush rise in her cheeks. She swallowed it down. "What were you here for? In Rome?"

Mike seemed to avert his eyes at the question, "Oh, I uh, I was here for, well, I guess you could say I was here for school."

"Oh, that's cool! What do you study?"

_Look at her! She was doing it! She was making small talk! And weirdly, this time, it didn't feel that hard! _

"Well," Mike replied, pausing for a moment before this worse spun back up, "It's a long story. I was here for this program that was a semester long, but I could apply it to an Applied Sciences Master's degree if, you know, if I wanted to?" he shrugged, "I got my bachelor's in English but I can't do much with that, obviously, so I thought I'd try to go after the other thing I'm good at."

"How did you like the school?"

"It was… I don't know," he said, scratching the back of his neck again, "Big decision, I guess? You know, relocating from Chicago to Rome. It's been," he ventured a glance at her before his eyes dropped back onto the line in front of him. Only then did he finish his sentence, "Going to school where you don't know anyone and you don't speak the language can make for a lot of… well, a lot of nights alone."

The words made El freeze for a split second. She looked up, wide eyed. And after a moment, Mike looked back, "I get it," El said, her voice evening out to something more natural, more real, than before, "Traveling alone has been the same."

It was odd, the sense that traced through her as she said it so plainly, but it was comforting to admit it, however vaguely. And Mike seemed to understand, and this time he hadn't looked away. It was slightly disarming to look at him in such a way, straight on for the first time. She tried not to focus on the fact that he had _beautiful_ eyes… deep and brown… like a warm blanket to fall into on a cold winter's day…

"Where else were you?" Mike blurted suddenly, his voice loud, "Other than, you know… here? Um," He shook his head in a sudden movement and let out a tight laugh, "Rome. Sorry, I forgot where I was for a second."

"It's okay, I don't think I've been sure of where I've been for at least a month," El said with a laugh, and then, so easily that she could have been talking to an old friend, she found herself speaking. Over the course of the next twenty minutes El shared some of the highlights of her trip with this stranger named Mike. She told him about beautiful cities of Europe, and the sometimes harrowing disgust of the hostels. She mentioned the one too many loaves of bread that she'd eaten and wasteful emptiness of her bank account.

Mike seemed interested in what she had to say, too, which felt so very nice. He asked questions more and more as she continued. He seemed curious about what it was like to live out of a backpack, and how she had planned the entire trip. Together they shuffled forward through the line as they talked, and much faster than either of them had anticipated, they had made it to front of the line.

"Passaporto e biglietto?"

El jumped in surprise as the voice of the attendant sounded off behind her ear. "Oh!" El gasped, whipping around. She pulled her passport out of her backpack and handed it to the woman.

"Biglietto?" the woman repeated, her eyes dull and annoyed.

"I - "

"She wants your ticket," Mike offered helpfully behind her.

"Oh!" El exclaimed, digging it out of her bag, her face turning red as she did so, "Sorry. Here you go."

"Parli italiano?" the woman asked. El shook her head. The woman then turned to Mike.

"State viaggiando insieme?" she asked him.

"Um…" he replied, his eyes going wide. "Uh… si?"

The gate attendant held her hand out for his papers, which he handed over. The woman nodded and began to rattle off a whole host of words that El never in a million years would have understood, but it seemed that Mike was taking care of the situation for her as well as for himself. The attendant continued to ask questions as she looked over both El and Mike's passports.

This American man with broken yet ever so slightly manageable Italian was arranging her rescheduling for her, and oddly, she found herself trusting him to do it. She clearly needed more sleep and she definitely needed to eat, because that decision on her part was absolutely insane. His Italian seemed middling at best, judging by the creases in his eyebrows whenever the woman sped through a new set of words, and the two word replies that he kept giving her seemed too minimal for the topic at hand. Yet, it seemed to have worked, because before she knew it the machine behind the counter was making loud printing noises and El had her passport back in her hand.

"Um… so, what just happened?" she asked in a whisper as they stepped away from the gate.

"Um…" Mike eyes were glued intently to his new paperwork. "So, there's a malfunction with the plane, I think? But there's a storm rolling in and they won't get it fixed in time. So it's cancelled for the night."

"Shit…" El breathed. Her stomach growled in protest and with it little bit of fear slipped in, "I - "

"No, it's okay!" Mike cut in with a reassuring manner. He leaned in close to her and pointed to the bottom half of her paperwork with lean fingers. "Yeah, see? Since it was a plane malfunction they have to legally put everyone up in a hotel. And then the flight is scheduled for 11am tomorrow morning."

A little bit of El's panic wore off at Mike's explanation, but only a little. El bit her lip as she tried to decipher the paperwork in her hands, "So, are we just supposed to… walk to this hotel?"

"I mean, I… I didn't catch that part, shit," Mike turned back around to the desk but the woman was already helping someone else. She refused to give him another glance. He worried his lip and raked his fingers through his hair, "Would you um… Would you be open to sharing a cab, maybe? We're at the same hotel."

"I mean, technically?" El sighed, "But I can't."

That got a look of surprise from Mike, "What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't afford it." she conceded, "I'm uh… my money ran out yesterday so I'm kind of screwed until I get back to Chicago."

"Oh, shit. Well, hey. It's no worry. I'll get the cab. No big deal."

El looked up in an instant, unable to hide her shock, "I uh… I really don't want to freeload."

"Please, it's fine," he waved off her worry with a sweep of his hand, "I'd have to get a cab anyway. You'll uh… you can just be my stowaway."

The laugh that emitted from El's lips was unexpected and high pitched, and it took both of them by surprise. The tiniest nervous flush bit at her cheeks, but this time it felt almost… welcome. "Okay, I'll be your stowaway. Thank you. Really, you're saving me today."

She wouldn't have admitted it then, but the smile that Mike gave her when she thanked him made it all worth it…

"Okay," he said with a hurried stutter, looking away in an instant, his eyes scanning the signs, "I think this is the way to the taxi line."

And just like that, after two whole months, in the literal last moments of her trip, El Hopper had finally found herself embarking on an adventure with someone other than herself.

And this stranger? He was… so. painfully. cute.

El bit back another smile as she followed Mike out of the airport.

* * *

What the _hell _had Mike gotten himself into?!

He looked at the papers in his hands once again as the cab pulled up to a nondescript building on the very edge of the city in a business park with literally nothing else around. He hoped against all hope that he had gotten even a shred of this correct, but his anxiety was getting the better of him.

Everything about the last three months had gone wrong, of course this had to go wrong, too. Right?

Honestly though, he really didn't want to think about that.

He didn't want to think about almost flunking out of the certificate program. He didn't want to think about the fact that the basic white walls of the classrooms and his dorm room were the main extent of what he had seen of Rome. He didn't want to think about the existential crisis that was brewing within him about his future, this whole trip seeming to do nothing for him other than tell him what he _didn't_ want to do.

If he was honest with himself, he'd only wanted to think about one thing for the last two hours…

and that was the girl who was now sitting next to him in the cab.

He'd noticed her about an hour before he'd learned that her name was El. He'd not been able to take his eyes off of her from the second that he spotted her, even though he'd tried because, well, he didn't want to be a creep. But still, he had become transfixed by her as she read a well worn paperback, her legs curled up below her in her seat, her hair laid out in soft messy braids on either side of her head, tied off with elastics that didn't match, her delicate fingers turning the pages and twisting the strings of her cozy looking light blue hoodie.

She looked serene, easy going, free. There was something about her that seemed to… wake him up.

And given that Mike had felt like he'd been asleep for at least the last month? That sensation was jarring.

Yet he'd never expected to find himself_ here_, alone next to her in the back of a cab, serving as her Italian guide. When he'd seen her pacing down the line, though, a panicked expression on her face, something within him had just jumped, blurting out to her before he could even think.

God, he hoped he was actually helping and not making her travel infinitely worse.

He looked down again, for what felt like the twentieth time, to the papers in his hands. Sure enough, he was able to confirm yet again the address of the hotel and the time of the newly scheduled flight the next day. Hers had looked almost identical, so he tried to take that as a solace that he had done well. Or at least, well enough. For, other than the fact that he'd been able to secure a hotel and new flights, he truly had not known a single other word that the flight attendant had said.

God, he hoped he hadn't missed anything.

Because it wasn't just him who he was responsible for, it was now also _her_. This _gorgeous_ girl who was trusting him with her arrangements for the entire rest of her trip home.

At least he could get a breather soon. Within twenty minutes he could shut the door on his hotel room and let out the longest nervous sigh. Until then, though, he had to put on a knowing face.

The cab pulled up to the curb just as rain began to patter the windshield from the late afternoon sky. Mike jumped out, and El followed from the other side. The cabby quickly pulled out their bags without a word and tossed them on the ground before peeling away at the speed of light.

"Friendly service…" El grimaced under her breath as she lugged her huge backpack up off of the ground.

Mike snickered as he pulled out the handle of his roller bag and lifted his duffel to his shoulder, "Guess he didn't like Americans?"

"I mean, can you blame him? Americans are awful," El said with wry amusement as she hiked her backpack up on her back and began to walk toward the hotel.

"Two dumb American college kids?" Mike said, deadpan, "The worst."

El laughed in reply and Mike almost stopped in his tracks. It had happened three times now. Three times that he had heard her laugh. Each one had sent a shot of endorphins up his spine that made him dizzy like a madman.

Maybe it was just a lack of practice lately. He honestly couldn't remember having a conversation with even a remotely pretty girl once during his entire three month program.

'Out of practice' was generous, though. Mike knew himself knew better than that… A girl like El was always going to knock him sideways.

He tried not to stare at her she led the way through the double doors.

The line in the nondescript hotel lobby was not too terribly long, but it was significant, and dotted with familiar faces from the line at the airport. It began to move fast, though, and before they knew it, Mike and El were next in line.

"Hey, really um… thank you for your help today," El said, breaking a short silence that had stretched longer than Mike had wanted. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"Yeah, of course. I mean, anytime."

"I'll be sure to call you the next time I need an Italian guide," she said with a sly smile.

Oh how Mike _wished_ that could be true. Something in him begged him to pick up the breadcrumb and offer his number, but it just felt so weird given the circumstances. The bravery died on his tongue.

He was saved when the hotel attendant waved him forward.

"Hi," he said, handing her his papers.

To his relief, this woman spoke English. She looked over the paperwork he had been given at the airport and nodded, pulling out two key cards and slipping them into a thin paper sheath. "For Wheeler and Hopper," she said casually as she handed them over, "Room 353. Elevator is on the left."

"Thanks," Mike said, taking the key before freezing in confusion. "Wait. Did you say Wheeler and - "

"-Hopper?" El's voice perked up behind him, finishing his sentence. She addressed the hotel attendant directly. "Does he have… my key too, then?"

The attendant looked between Mike and El with confusion for a moment. "Yes, I should hope so, as it's for the same room?"

"What?!"

"Oh…hmm…" the attendant said, looking back at the paperwork, "Yes, it's stated right here from the airline," she held up a printed rubric of room numbers and names and pointed to the middle of the page, "Michael Wheeler and Jane Eleanor Hopper?"

"Yes…" their voices echoed in union.

"Yes," the attendant repeated, her voice returning to cheerful helpfulness, "Yes. You're booked into the same room."

* * *

Hello! I always say I won't do this and start another fic, and then I always do it. But when a girl sees a headline that reads "Airline Books Strangers in Same Room With Single Bed" I just CANT HELP MYSELF! This one will go fast and will come out to only 3-4 chapters. My other fics are all also hard at work and new chapters of one of those should be coming in the next week. Let me know your thoughts on this one!


	2. Chapter 2

El learned one thing very quickly: Mike was a gentleman.

He visibly gulped at the hotel attendant's words and replied without pause, "Oh, that's a mistake. We're not together. She needs her own room."

"Hmm…" the hotel attendant replied. Her brow furrowed as she looked over the spreadsheet in front of her. She held up a finger and pulled her papers together, muttering a quick, "Let me see what I can do," before she turned and disappeared through the door behind her.

"I - I'm so sorry," Mike said the instant that the door swung shut, spinning on his heel in El's direction, "I - I don't know how this happened."

El looked up at him curiously, "Why are you apologizing?"

"I uh… I - " words escaped him for a quick second. His fingers ran a jagged pattern through his hair. He looked at her directly, dark eyes filled with pleading, "I just need you to know that I didn't do this on purpose."

"- Oh - "

"- I'm not a creep. I promise you! I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm really really sorry. I - "

"- Mike - "

"- She was talking so fast back at the airport. I - "

"Mike. I don't think you did this on purpose," El said with a clear tone in an attempt to get a word in edgewise. He finally stopped talking then, but she could still see his cheeks flaming scarlet.

She could see why he would be worried, of course. The situation _did_ look sketchy as hell from her vantage point: Standing in a foreign hotel with a near stranger learning that somehow his conversation on her behalf had resulted in a single hotel room for the both of them? Yikes. Yet it was absolutely clear from the panic that he couldn't seem to quell: Mike had no ability to pull such a trick.

She found herself giving him a reassuring smile, "They're figuring it out. I'm sure it will be fine."

He didn't seem to know how to reply, but slowly the red receded from his cheeks and the stark line in his forehead relaxed, even if just a little bit. After a moment he returned the tiniest grateful smile, nodded, and turned back to the desk, his eyes gluing to the door where the hotel attendant had disappeared.

Throughout the intervening moments the hubbub of fellow passengers faded away. One by one they each received their keys from the other attendant on duty and disappeared down a nondescript hallway, until it was only Mike and El left alone in the lobby.

Sleet was now pounding loudly against the windowpanes behind them. It was the only thing that kept them company as they stood silently side by side while the minutes continued to creep by. Throughout the time El found her old familiar awkwardness attempting to slip back up her spine. A hesitation on what to say next. An awareness of her faded sweatpants. Even a worry that maybe she was breathing too loud. Yet, every time she looked over in Mike's direction the uncomfortable edge seemed to dissipate back into nothing. Despite the stress of the situation, she couldn't help but notice the odd calm that drifted over her while at his side. It was a jarring sensation to have after going months without it, yet she couldn't shake the odd sense of… familiarity maybe?

She wasn't sure what to call it, but it definitely felt nice.

_Very nice._

He didn't seem to feel the same, however. To the contrary, he still looked riddled with anxiety.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he stared with unyielding attention at the door behind the counter, as though he was attempting to will the attendant's return with his mind. El tried not to stare at him, tried to pull her eyes away, but they simply kept drifting back.

She grew braver as the minutes passed. There was an elegance to his features, even in his tense state. Little things jumped out, calling her attention here and there, like how his almost black hair fell across his forehead. It was just a little messy, sweeping down and on the shaggy side, as though he hadn't had a cut since he'd left The States. She noted the specific way that he seemed to chew on his lip just a bit too hard, to the point where it left tiny indentations on the right side, that particular spot just a little redder than the rest. She couldn't help but notice his lashes, longer than hers, fanning as he blinked with an instant flourish.

She probably shouldn't have been thinking it at this point. It was really not the right topic, especially considering the circumstances, but she had to amend her previous statement:

Mike wasn't just cute. He was beautiful.

It was almost as though Mike had sensed her thoughts, for at that very moment he finally looked back in her direction. Biting the inside of her cheek to quell any guiltiness that could have given her away, she smiled at him tentatively.

He tried to smile back, but it came in more of a grimace.

At that moment the door swung back open. The attendant gave them both a tight smile. "I spoke with the airline. They agree that this was a mistake."

"See, I told you it'd be fine," El said with a reassuring lilt in Mike's direction.

"Unfortunately, though," the attendant continued, "We have no more rooms."

Now that was an unexpected statement.

"Excuse me?"

"The airline has booked the remainder of our hotel and there are no rooms left," The woman said with a maddeningly casual shrug.

Mike visibly gulped and stepped forward, placing his hands on the desk, "There's nothing you can do?"

The agent looked at Mike with something akin to pity, "You're free to call around to any other hotels in the area or speak with the airline," her eyes skirted past the sleet stricken windowpanes as she continued, "On account of the storm, however, most of the planes have been grounded. I expect that any rooms near the airport are booked out."

Mike cursed under his breath and spun to El in an instant, his expression resolute, "I can get a hotel in the city or I can go back and sleep at the airport - I - "

"The management has offered dinner at our restaurant to help manage your inconvenience, in case you're unable to find other arrangements."

El's attention snapped to the desk, "Did you say free dinner?" she asked, her eyes widening like saucers.

For the first time the attendant showed a crack in her veneer, "Yes. We understand that this situation is less than… adequate. So please, if you're unable to make other arrangements, have dinner on us. We have a full service restaurant on the other end of the building. Simply add it to your room number at the restaurant and we will write it off as a courtesy for your trouble."

El did some frantic calculation:

Hours since she'd had a full meal: 24. Hours until she'd get a full meal for free on the plane: 16. Amount of money in her pocket: …unsure but only pocket change left…

El's stomach seemed to answer for her, its growl loud enough that she was sure both Mike and the attendant could hear it.

"We can make this work," El said immediately, her hand shooting forward to snatch the room keys from the counter.

_"What?!"_

She turned to find Mike staring at her, mouth agape.

Her stomach growled again.

"Really, its okay." El waved of her hand in the common sign of 'no big deal'. "I've been sleeping in coed dorms most of my trip, anyway. Cheapest way to travel. Plus," she lowered her voice and bent closer to him, her jaw locked as she whispered the words, "Free dinner."

Mike stood frozen, seemingly unable to process what she had just said.

"Is it possible - if a room opens up can you contact us?" El asked the attendant.

"I can do that," the attendant said kindly. She lifted a piece of paper and began making a note.

El turned back to Mike to find that her attempt to placate the situation had not made him feel better. Tentatively, she offered him one of the keys. He took it numbly, his eyes stitched wide upon her, his expression smacking of disbelief. El hoisted her backpack higher upon her back and took a step toward the hallway, no longer wasting any more time. Her stomach seemed to do the leading. She found her way to a staircase and began the climb, unsure of where to find the elevator. Mike was absolutely silent in her wake.

It was only at the landing of the third floor that she realized what she had done.

With a guilty gasp, she turned to face him. "Hey, I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I got so focused on food that I got a bit blinded. Is this okay with you?"

He stepped up the final step and stopped in front of her, his expression indiscernible. He was quiet for a moment, seeming to weigh his words.

A hint of guilt laced through her at the pregnant silence. How could she have just made this decision for him and then walked away? He clearly wouldn't have done that to her.

"I just - is this _really_ okay with you?" Mike finally asked, "I don't want you to be in a situation you don't feel comfortable with."

El considered his question, mulling it over one last time.

It was the oddest thing, the strength of her intuition's answer. She nodded, "Yes, I'm okay with this. Are _you_ okay with this?"

Mike took a deep breath and ultimately nodded back, "If you're comfortable then… then yes, I'm comfortable."

"I mean," El shrugged as a tiny smirk crept to her lips, "This is what travel is supposed to be right? A crazy adventure? I can't really think of anything crazier than the fact that an airline booked two strangers in the same room."

A soft laugh flowed from Mike as he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Yeah. This _is_ a very crazy story."

"And look," El continued, catching his eye to make sure he understood, "I know I don't know you… well… _at all_, so I can't why I feel this way but… I trust you."

The change in his expression was like watching a storm front leave the sky. Tight tension flowed away from his gaze in an instant and something else took it's place. Something new. Something soft and radiant and -

El had to look away.

"Yes. You can trust me. I promise," Mike said, his voice so very earnest.

El nodded, rooted to her spot. She ventured to look him in the eye again, something within her awakening in his gaze. She smiled, "I know."

"Cool," he said, holding her gaze almost longer than she could handle it, before looking away and pointing down the hall to their room. "Well, um -" he intimated, gesturing his body in that direction. Only upon the loss of his eye contact did El realize that she hadn't been breathing. She pulled in a deep silent breath as he led the way. Stopping at Room 353 he pulled out the key and held the door open for her to pass through first. El took a step in, and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Um…"

"Oh my God…"

"I take it you also expected that there would be two beds?"

Her attention snapped up to Mike and then back to the room as all of Mike's tension seemed to cut through him in a barking laugh.

The room was _so small_. A single queen sized bed sat in the center… if you could call it the center. The room truly looked as though it had been constructed _around_ the bed, only allowing enough space on each side to shuffle past. A single sad armchair was shoved in the far cover on the far side of the bed in lieu of a table.

The view of it all made something in El simply crack open. Laughter broke through her, punching at her ribs and tickling her brain. Before she knew it she had dropped her bag on the ground and had buckled halfway over, hiccuping for air, her hand cradling her forehead. "This is ridiculous!"

"Do you want to go back and talk to them?" Mike asked, his voice laced with amused surrender.

"I'll just sleep on the floor," El offered, pointing to the thin strip of floor on the far side of the bed, "There's enough space for me here."

"What? No!"

"No?"

He shook his head resolutely, "I can't do that. You're taking the bed."

El scoffed, "Where will you sleep?"

"The floor? The… the chair?"

She shot him an incredulous look, "You're a foot taller than me and you paid for my cab fair. You take the bed."

"What? No!" He shot back, his hair bouncing as he shook his head with even more fervor, "You've been traveling longer and you haven't eaten and you probably need more rest then me. I've been in a nice bed for months. You take the bed."

El smiled helplessly and held up her hand in a truce, "I'm really going to need to eat something to keep up this fight about who can be more chivalrous."

Mike let out a defeated chuckle, "Okay. Just… Oh my god, this is crazy!" His hands raked through his hair as his body pulled into a stretch, his eyes wide with disbelief. His long torso arched, riding up his soft dark blue sweater to reveal the slightest sliver of his abdomen above his cinched belt and very nice jeans.

Suddenly self conscious, El looked down upon her own ratty sweatpants, decimated hiking boots, and her mismatched sweatshirt, "I'm going to get changed and then go down and find food," she said instantly, grabbing her bag from the ground and heaving it through the bathroom door by the entryway, "I'll be just a minute."

"Yeah, sure," Mike said. He dropped to the bed as she ducked through the bathroom door, shutting it firmly.

Her body fell against the closed door and she looked up to find herself facing her own reflection. Now safe and alone, she let every emotion from the last hour flood her expression.

"WHAT. THE. HELL?!" She mouthed in a silent scream, her eyes wide and twinkling, her cheeks tugging upward into a crazed open-mouthed smile. This was INSANE. Had the fates aligned to throw ALL of the ridiculousness of her trip into one single night?! It sure seemed like it, for after almost two quiet serene months on the road, seeking adventure and finding nothing more than quiet countryside and silence, El had officially been thrust into one of the most ridiculous situations of her entire life.

And here, in this otherwise forgettable hotel, she found herself awash in such bizarre chaos that she was sure that she must have been dreaming. In fact, she realized, she should probably check that. For the guy in the other room? The tall, dark-eyed, respectable, sweet guy in the other room? He was definitely something that her overactive imagination would have created in a dream.

Her hand came up and lightly slapped against her own cheek.

She winced.

Nope, she was _definitely_ awake. She was definitely here, living this, stuck on this insane ride for the next many many hours alone with… Mike.

El forced a deep breath, and upon her exhale she practically dove for her bag. Fighting with the enclosures, she wrenched it open and shoved her hand blindly down into its unseen depths, searching for the right tactile material to brush against her fingers. A single dress, left unused throughout her entire trip. It was nothing too special, just a simple knee length burgundy wrap dress with long sleeves. She'd packed just in case a nice occasion arose: a fancy dinner or a cocktail bar, a night at the theatre… A date, maybe?

She pulled her lip between her teeth as her attention darted to the paper thin wall that separated her from… from him.

Maybe she was overplaying how absolutely attractive she found him. Maybe she was just insanely lonely. Maybe the fact that she'd succeeded at having a simple conversation for more than three minutes of the first time in weeks felt so good that she'd had an aneurysm. Or maybe he was just really nice and thoughtful and friendly and tall and handsome and…

"_El!_" she mouthed to herself in the mirror, "_Pull it together!_"

This was just a voucher dinner in some nondescript hotel in the middle of nowhere suburbs of Rome. Dinner with a stranger who was_ forcibly stuck_ with her for the night. Nothing more.

Her heart whined.

"_El, no. This is **not **a date_," she whispered sternly to herself. And she would do best to remember that.

This was not the night for the dress.

But, then again… what could it hurt? It was just a simple dress, after all! Modest yet classy… It could mean nothing! He didn't know her at all. Maybe it was just the way she dressed! Normal people dressed in dresses for a casual dinner.

She was clearly overthinking this.

Her hand stopped in her bag as the slick synthetic material finally wrapped through her fingers…

Before she knew it she had kicked off her sweats and boots and had tugged on the dress. She adjusted the tightness of the wrap in the mirror, checking it out from all possible angles. Moving closer, she adjusted the neckline, ensuring that the v-neck covered anything that wouldn't be considered modest. Neckline set, her eyes carded up her own reflection and frowned. A few minutes later her braids were gone. In their place, soft curls dropped against her shoulders, a bonus from the fact that she had allowed her hair to dry within the loose braids. She then quickly fished out her toiletry bag and her flat slippers, topping herself off with a quick brush of mascara and the slightest hint of lipgloss as she toed her way into less utilitarian shoes.

Taking a step back, she raked her reflection with hesitation.

The tiniest squeaking noise escaped her lips.

Her heartbeat was racing, and it was only then that she fully allowed herself to feel it. It had been coming on since she'd first laid eyes on him but now, here in the relative privacy of the bathroom, only accompanied by her own reflection, she finally gave into it. It was a bubbling sensation, starting deep within her, and it percolated like steam directly behind her sternum. It made her feel delightfully shaky, and it forced her lips into a giddy and perennial smile.

She took a final look at herself in the mirror. Then, with a little goodbye to her own self she turned, placed her hand on the doorknob, forced a final deep breath, and took a step out into the hotel room.

OoOoOoO

A thick fog of panicked awkwardness had grown around him so heavy that he could have almost choked upon it. He stared at the bathroom door, it's soft green hue unyielding as the minutes passed by and the girl that he only knew as El remained on the other side. Sleet sounded off on the windows behind him. The sharp staccatos felt like shellack encasing him within this tiny room… with no one but her.

It was too kind of her, the easy grace with which she was handling his massive mistake. He could see his mistake plain as day now: The mistranslations at the airport had been so very slight, but they had been absolutely damning. Yet, even after what he'd done, _she_ had been the one to ask_ him_ if _he_ was okay with all of this?

_How_ could he not be okay with this? How could this girl ever think that this would be anything other than a bizarre dream come true? Moreover, that she'd _forced_ him into this?

Quite the contrary, and he tried to avoid the thought, but something inside of him wanted this _too much_. Wanted to know her. Wanted to laugh at her jokes and relish in her travels and her smiles and anything and everything about her that she was willing to share… He shook his head frantically in an effort to dislodge the less than gentlemanly path that his thoughts were about to take.

He caught his reflection in the TV, then. He looked haggard. Messy hair and slumped shoulders. Creases at his eyes from the shock of the situation. Taking a step toward it to get a better look, he dragged his fingers through his hair in a furious manner, attempting against common sense to tame his unruly mop.

He jumped at the sound of her footsteps and turned in her direction as she re-entered the room.

"Oh -"

His voice halted before he finished his sentence.

El stood in the doorway, utterly transformed.

The simmering heat and nerves within Mike spiked to a fever pitch as he took her in. She was draped in a soft maroon dress. It followed the center of her body like a silhouette, belling out softly at the hip to drape down perfectly, stopping right above her knees. She'd discarded her messy braids, leaving her soft brown hair to lay in decadent waves against her shoulders. Her eyes seemed to sparkle a little more than before.

_She looked absolutely gorgeous._

Her feet shuffled against scratchy carpet as she spoke, "Um… I was going to cash in on that free dinner. Would… um… do you want to join me? Are you hungry?"

"Y-yeah!" Mike almost yelped, stepping forward with such eagerness that he came close to tripping over himself.

If she'd noticed, she was kind enough to hide it. "Might as well make the most of it and eat everything on their menu, right?" She said with a joking shrug, "they didn't specify a limit."

"I mean, I think they owe up that much," Mike replied, "Should I change, though? Because you uh - you look…" he tried to stop himself from raking his eyes up her body, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded, "You look really nice."

El ducked her chin in reply, and a closed mouthed smile showcasing a dimple in her cheek materialized upon her, "Thank you. But no, you don't need to change. You already look nice. It was me. I was literally wearing pajamas before."

Mike felt his back straighten and his shoulders square at her words, "Okay, cool. Thanks. Um… Do you uh - do you want to go now?"

"Please," she said adamantly, "I'm so hungry I could eat my backpack."

"Well, we don't want that," Mike replied with a laugh as he gestured to the door.

The hotel was a bit of a labyrinth. They finally found their way back to the elevator that had they missed before, yet they definitely weren't alone in arriving to it. A large group had accumulated in their wake, a small stream of hungry travelers likely headed to the same location as them. So, when the ding of the elevator doors opened, Mike followed El in with about eight other people. The space filled up fast around them. Too fast, in fact, for before he knew it two older ladies had trapped him against the wall, El sandwiched directly in front of him.

"Sorry," El said with a guilty expression as she shuffled closer to accommodate the incoming throng. He tried to pull himself back further against the wall, but it was no use. Before he knew it she was directly up against him, her hip brushing up against the back of his hand, her surprisingly soft scent drifting around him.

"Um…" he breathed, leaning down, hardly needing to do more than whisper for how close she was to him, "I really think this elevator has reached its weight limit."

"Well," she replied, considering the others pressed in around them, "I guess if we have to die in an elevator, at least it'll be another story to tell."

Mike laughed, "I - I don't think we'd be able to tell the story of how we died in an elevator. We'd be… dead."

She looked up with lively surprise, "You don't believe in an afterlife?"

"Um…"

"I mean, I bet that's the best time to tell stories. You truly have nothing else to do, for all of eternity."

Mike nodded thoughtfully, "Good point. Death by elevator via bad translator would be a good story to tell forever. Well, maybe for you."

Her eyes darted up to his for the quickest moment as she smirked at his words, biting back a laugh. She was so close that he could almost feel the energy of her expression radiating from the golden flecks in her eyes. Something in him stirred at that split second before she abruptly looked away. A fullness in his chest. An aching awareness of the lack of space between them…

He didn't get long to ponder, though. Instead, the elevator doors dinged and slid open just like any normal ride.

"Well, I guess we weren't destined to die here," she said this a teasing lilt as she stepped out and followed the throng of people toward a simple sign that just said 'RESTAURANT'.

The second they stepped into the doors of the restaurant they stopped in their tracks. To be fair, Mike wasn't sure exactly what he had expected from a mid-grade hotel's on-premise restaurant, but it definitely wasn't this.

They found themselves in a small ballroom. Outdated but surprisingly classy. The lighting was soft and diffused, with candles dotting each table, White table clothes and full glassware adorned each table, and, despite the room filling up with diners, the voices remained hushed by the plush walls and thick curtains, making for an oddly intimate sensation within the almost grand space."

"What_ is_ this place?" El asked, wide eyed.

"I have no idea," Mike replied quietly, "but I can't help but feel… we're not in The Shining, are we?"

El stifled a laugh, brushing her shoulder into his arm with a slight push as not just one, but two waiters approached them. They each wore white sleeves and a black vest.

"Numero di Camera?" the taller of the two asked.

El looked up to Mike helplessly.

"Oh right!" Mike stuttered, "Trecentocinquantatré."

The shorter of the two waiters nodded and pointed toward the far end of the room to a table against the wall. He led them through the room, pulled a chair for El, and handed them their menus, disappearing without another word.

"This place is so oddly fancy," Mike said as he picked up his menu.

"Yes!" she agreed, looking around with wide eyes, "I'm so glad I changed."

"I'm kind of wishing I'd changed now."

"You're fine," she said with a dismissive wave, "You look great."

Once again her eyes darted up to meet his, only to run away the instant that she spoke. She seemed supremely interested in the menu at that, which was nice because at least it gave Mike the space to let his true expression of baffled flattery rise to his face.

…She'd complimented him twice in ten minutes. That fact was not going unnoticed.

"Thank you," he found himself whispering under his breath as his eyes glued his own eyes back to the menu. The truth was, though, he could hardly read it. Not due to a lack of acumen this time, but rather from the pulse of his nerves. They danced around his brain, begging him to look back up at her, refusing to translate, stamped in shock that any of this was happening at all.

The waiter's return caught Mike by surprise. He almost jumped as he heard the man's voice at his right. Completely unprepared, Mike pointed to two quick things on second page of the menu with a shaky finger, nodding yes at any of the questions that the waiter seemed to ask. Handing his menu back, he looked up to El as she simply said 'spaghetti' and practically tossed her menu to the man, her eyes no longer on him, or the menu, or the waiter.

She only had eyes for the bread that the waiter had placed on the table.

Only then did Mike remember that she'd mentioned how broke she was all the way back at the airport. He couldn't help but wonder the last time that she'd had a real meal, and he chided himself for not realizing earlier that he should've tried to do something about that. Offering to get her a sandwich from the airport or something. Anything. For the way that she tore into the bread was ravenous, sopping it quickly in the olive oil that the waiter had set down and closing her eyes with an intense sense of delight as she chewed.

It took her a minute before she seemed to remember that she wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry," she said through a slightly full mouth, "I'm starving."

"No, it's okay," Mike said with a laugh, reaching for a piece himself.

"It's really good bread," she said as she reached for another piece, bumping into his hand as she snatched the piece right next to the one that he chose. "I'm going to miss bread in Europe so much. I wish bread was this good in America."

"Honestly, the food has been the absolute best part about living in Italy," Mike said in agreement, "No matter how bad class got each day, I at least knew I'd enjoy dinner. "

El looked up at him again, a little more light in her eyes now that'd gotten something in her stomach, "What'd you order?"

The waiter sidled up beside the table with what Mike expected to be water, but he hardly noticed, his attention on El.

"Oh, I don't even know what I ordered, honestly. I've never had it before. Whatever it is it'll be good so - "

It was then that he realized that the liquid being poured in front of him was not clear. Instead, it was a deep deep red.

"Did you order wine?" Mike asked, his brow knitting toward El in confusion.

"Nope," she said, looking up in surprise as the waiter moved to pour her a glass.

Mike held up his hand for the waiter to stop, "Um sorry? I didn't order this."

"Scusa, parlo solo Italiano." The waiter replied, pulling away after both of their glasses were filled.

"Oh, right," Mike shook his head and tried to pull his Italian back up to the front of his mind, "Non ho ordinato vino?"

The waiter regarded him curiously before he shook his head as though Mike was wrong. He placed the bottle down and stepped away, returning with a menu. He opened to a page and circled the menu items that Mike had ordered.

There it was, plain as day, that it was in fact he who had ordered them wine.

Mike dropped his head. "Shit.."

"Non lo vuoi?" the waiter asked.

He looked up to El with helpless surrender, "El, do you want to help me drink this bottle of wine that I absolutely did not mean to order?"

El giggled in reply and nodded, something almost pitying in her expression. "Maybe it's for the best," El said as the waiter walked away, "Honestly, you look like you could probably use a glass of wine."

Mike smirked sardonically and looked back down at his glass, "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Hey," she offered kindly, lifting her glass in the air, "Cheers to one of the weirdest nights ever."

Mike had no other choice but to laugh, "To one of the weirdest nights ever," he agreed as he clinked his glass against hers and took a deep drink. The wine was full bodied and jammy. It offered an intensely comforting sensation as it slid down his throat. He let himself enjoy it, his eyes slipping shut for just a quickest moment.

El's voice brought him back to the table, "So, can I ask you a question?"

"Um… Sure."

She regarded him with more of what was becoming her patent look of curiosity. She spoke slowly, seeming to choose her words carefully. "How does a person with… I hope you don't take this rudely. You're infinitely better than me at it, but… how does a person who is less than fluent in the language come to find themselves at school in Italy? I mean, it's one of the only countries in Europe where English isn't readily spoken?"

The dark chuckle that came from Mike was resigned. He took another deep gulp of his wine, tore into a new piece of bread, and popped it in his mouth before he answered. "I'll tell you but it's embarrassing."

"It can't be that bad!"

Mike grimaced and dropped his chin to his hand, elbow on the table. "I was overly confident."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters I had no idea that English wasn't as common here in Italy. Everyone always told me that everyone in Europe spoke English so I just… took them at their word I guess? But um.. I started taking Italian as an elective in Sophomore year of college because… damn this sounds nerdy, but I was reading a lot of Umberto Eco at the time and I was curious what it would be like to read him in his native language."

"That doesn't sound nerdy!" she said with a debating tone, "That sounds awesome."

"Well, thank you. Anyway, so I started studying Italian because I had elective hours in my schedule and well, I thought I'd gotten good at it. I can read Italian pretty well, or so I thought. But then, um, during my senior year my dad got in my head telling me all this stuff about how my English major wouldn't amount to anything, you know, job-wise? Anyway, he thought I should supplement with something else and I just… well, I thought I'd try to kill two birds with one stone and travel here to do it. So I came here to try my hand at this kind of transitional program that would prep me to apply for graduate school for applied science."

Her expression was sympathetic, "Not what you expected it to be, I take it?"

"I don't even know, if I'm honest. Turns out reading Italian well does not translate to speaking or hearing Italian well. At least not for me. I got so hung up on trying to piece out the language in each of my lectures that I almost flunked the program."

The admission fell from his lips with an ease that was alarming. He hadn't told anyone… not his parents or his friends or… or anyone… about the results. Honestly, he didn't even want to tell himself. Yet they fell out easily to El.

Maybe it was the fact that she was a stranger, someone who was likely drifting through his life like a ship passing in the night. But it felt like such an infinite relief to say it out loud to someone that he… he trusted.

"That… sucks," she said simply, her tone so deeply understanding, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah… I uh…" he let out a deep breath, "I don't know why I told you all that but - but yeah. That's how I ended up here and I guess that's also why I'm heading home. It's been a, um, a humbling few months, to say the least."

She didn't speak for a moment. She took a fresh piece of bread and moved it slowly through the olive oil as she considered her next words, "Well… even if it didn't turn out the way you though it would, at least you tried something you wanted to try. Most people wouldn't have taken the risk. It's really cool that you did."

Her words felt like a salve on his heart. His voice was hushed when he replied, "Thank you."

Her smile was soft in reply, her eyes kind upon him in a way that made it oddly easier to breathe, "And look at it this way," she continued, gesturing around her, "Your Italian skills not only got us a free place to stay but also free dinner and free wine. So, I'd say you're doing pretty good."

Mike rolled his eyes with a laugh, "Well, I'd have to admit that it was actually my lack of Italian skills that did that but… I'll take the compliment."

She shrugged playfully and reached for yet another piece of bread. "So, Applied science isn't for you, then? Did you like it, you know, the parts that weren't stuck behind a language barrier?"

He thought on her question for a moment and ultimately shook his head. "No, I mean, I don't know. It was interesting but it wasn't like… I guess I didn't find any passion in it? So I don't know if I'd want to do it my whole life, like for a career."

"What are you passionate about, then?"

The word passion popped off her lips like a tiny explosion. Mike swallowed against another rise in his chest.

"Sorry," she said, seeming to read something in his expression, "Am I being nosy?"

"No, not at all," he waved his hand to dispel her worry, "I mean I have my degree in English because I love to write."

Her eyes absolutely lit up in reply. "Really? What do you write?"

"Oh, I mean, um… well… " he felt it, that familiar flush of nervous shame that came with talking about his writing, but he tried to fight it down. "I've have a few short stories that have been published and - "

" - You've been published already?" she interjected, her eyes widening, "That's so cool!"

Mike was pretty sure that he grew three inches taller at her words. His lips fought to keep his expression even, but he lost, a huge smile breaking through, "Yeah, I mean not in anything too big just a couple of small magazines and such here and there, but yeah."

"Still, though!" she said excitedly, "What do you write about?"

"Lots of stuff. But um… I guess I think about weird circumstances a lot, you know?"

"Like strangers getting booked into the same hotel room?" she teased, an amused giggle bouncing out of her.

"More like alternate universes. Mind bendy fantasy sci-fi. Stuff like that."

Her eyes narrowed with curiosity, "Okay, like what?"

"Like…" okay Mike this is your chance to impress, "Okay, so I haven't written this yet but I've been batting around this idea that's like," Mike gestured at the room, to the waiters, the dinner patrons, and everyone around them. "So, say everyone in this room just *poof* gets dropped back in time. Together."

The most adorable quizzical wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, "What?"

"It's like, okay," he took a quick breath and tried to reform his thought, he snapped his fingers, "like that, by some weird rip in the time-space continuum or something, all of a sudden every person inside these walls just finds themselves transported back to like, I don't know, 600 years in the past. But we're in the exact same geographical place."

El looked around the room and tried to make sense of his thought, "So, this whole group of people shows up out of nowhere in 1400s suburbs of Rome?" she laughed, backtracking, "I don't really think they had suburbs then, but you get what I mean."

"Exactly like that," he said with a nod, "So like, taking all of these people and sending us all back in time in a split second when no one is expecting it. That would be pretty insane, right?"

She nodded, "That would definitely be weird."

"We'd need to band together, right? Create a community to protect each other? To survive? And just like, what are the dynamics of that? How would everyone fare? Who would be the leader? Who would we sacrifice? How would we defend ourselves?"

El seemed to consider the topic as she dipped the final piece of bread into the olive oil. "In this room? I think I'd fare pretty well, at least."

"Ooh, confident," Mike found himself teasing, "Interesting."

El gave him a sly look, "You don't know my skills."

"Touché," he conceded.

"People would flock to you," she said, jutting her chin toward him.

"Me? Why?"

"Well, you're the tallest young man in here. That's a sign of strength. Virility."

The sardonic laugh cut from Mike's lips before he could stop it, "No one has ever once called me 'virile'. But okay, I appreciate that. I don't think I'd end up as the leader, though," he looked around, considered for a quick moment, and pointed to a single man at a table by the far wall, "That guy would be the leader."

El leaned forward and took a glance to where he pointed. "Why him?"

"Look at him. He's confident enough to drink a whole bottle of wine alone but he's still put together. He's older, but not too old. Strong, but seems to also have some wisdom."

El nodded in understanding, "He's seasoned."

"Exactly," Mike replied, accentuating with a strike of his finger, "He's probably well spoken. Intelligent. Like you said, seasoned. I'd follow him."

She nodded and pulled back to look at him. She pointed to him with the bread in between her fingers,"And considering I speak no Italian. I'd follow you - "

"-Oh!" Mike retorted, hands in the air, "No, I'm sure that after a while you'd find a much more effective translator than me. I would become completely useless to you."

"So down on yourself!" she joked through a mouthful of bread, "You have other qualities besides basic translation skills!"

"Oh, really?" he asked, getting braver, "And what are those?"

She looked at him for a moment, her gaze disarming. "You're excellent company." she finally said.

Mike bit his lip, hard, just to make sure that this moment was real.

"You - You think I'm excellent company?"

To his surprise, his question seemed to have the opposite of his intended effect. Because at that, El's expression dropped a bit. She reached for her wine and took a long pull. Eyes on the glass, she swirled it thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"Yeah," she finally said, looking back up to him with a thread of something…vulnerable… in her gaze. "I mean… I don't know, " she shrugged, "I, ugh, I don't know why I'm saying this. It's embarrassing. But… sometimes I'm not like.. not the most socially adept person."

"Really?" he asked with the utmost surprise, "You might want to rethink that, because you totally could have fooled me."

"Yeah, so yeah, that's the thing!" she said, her expression growing adamant again, "I uh… I just, you know, I freeze up around strangers sometimes, well, usually. So, that's kinda the thing here. You're one of those super rare people who are easy to talk to from the jump. You're very welcoming. So yes, excellent company."

There was a gratefulness in her gaze that made him have a million questions, each of them playing on his heart. He didn't ask them though. Instead, he just smiled. "Thanks. You're excellent company, too, by the way."

"Yeah?" she asked with a shy laugh, "Well, I'm at least glad that you're not regretting helping my hopeless ass in the line back there."

"Not in the slightest," he replied, his voice plainly honest. She looked back up to him and returned his smile, holding his gaze for a little longer than she had before, "So," he continued, scrambling for something, anything to say to continue the conversation, "If we both think that we're excellent company, would you want to form an alliance?"

"An alliance?" she asked, her brow knitting sudden confusion.

"You know, if we ended up getting thrown back in the past? Excellent company is one of the top requirements for a situation like being sent back in time against our will. We could band together. At least we know that we can get along decently well."

She considered him playfully for a moment before holding out her hand to shake, "Okay, deal. We'll be in this crazy alternate reality together."

He took her hand over the table. It felt soft in his grip as he shook it, delicate yet firm. Warm and electric. He pulled hand away almost by force, ripping his attention back to his last train of thought.

"So, if we're forming an alliance in this alternate reality," he continued, his voice hiding almost all of his now stuttering pulse, "We have to know each other's skills. What can you contribute?"

She thought for a moment, swirling her wine once again, "I can kickbox."

"You can Kickbox?!" Mike exclaimed, "Holy shit! I made a good alliance. I um… I can run and swim fast, I guess."

"Useful!" she replied in agreement, "I'm trained in de-escalation and negotiation techniques?"

"Really?" he said, taken aback, "How'd you get those skills?"

"Oh, my degree is in social work. I've been trained to de-escalate between families and bitter exes. Useful skills."

"Very useful," he agreed, "So yeah, I guess I can… poorly translate your de-escalation pleas into broken Italian."

That got a laugh from El. She put her wine back on the table as she buckled over a bit, her eyes rolling as she looked back up at him. Mike laughed in reply and took another drink of his wine, emptying his glass. "No, but really, I can… I can tell stories. We can be stuck in the middle ages for every and I'll never run out of stories to tell."

El nodded in approval, "Always need a person like that around the fire in the 1400s, I'm told."

"That's what the ancient people I've met tell me," Mike teased.

"And imagine how blown away those ancient people will be by your wild future stories," she exclaimed, before she too drained the last of her first glass of wine. She gestured to the bottle, and Mike nodded, filling up her glass and then his own, the bottle emptying upon a heavy pour in each glass.

"And… oh! I did a lot of stick sword fighting as a kid," Mike added jovially as the waited for the final drops to fall into his glass, "That should come in handy."

"Ooh yes!" El exclaimed, "You can fight our enemies into submission with a stick and then they won't see me coming while I place a well aimed kick."

"You have a very good tactical mind, I see," Mike teased, impressed, "Another useful trait."

El brushed it off as she took a fresh drink of wine, "You don't get raised by a cop and not know make the best move in a fight."

"You were raised by a cop?" Mike exclaimed, "Oh man, you're going to end up protecting me by the end of this. You realize this, right? Are you sure you don't want to rethink this alliance?"

At that, El smiled, not holding back. She looked radiant. A little tipsy. Eyes shining and cheeks blushed.

How?

How was this girl looking at him like this?

It wasn't like Mike hadn't had his share of dates, short relationships, and flings here and there. Of course he had throughout the years. But not with someone like El. With her glowing smile and disarming honey eyes. With her soft brown hair that his fingers were itching to touch if he allowed himself to admit it. Girls like her did not smile at Mike like this.

Or maybe he'd never given them the chance.

Maybe he'd never allowed himself to believe that they would give _him_ a chance.

Yet, now a chance had been handed to him, seemingly by the fates themselves, and he found that he couldn't look away from her.

Thank God he was interrupted by the waiter bringing their food.

"So you uh… you studied social work, huh?" He asked as his plate was laid down in front of him, "That's really important work."

"Yeah," she said with a shrug, "I'll admit I'm a little nervous about it as a career. That's one of the reasons I took this trip. Have a big grand experience before life got kind of crazy with a stressful job"

"No, that's cool though," he encouraged, "You're actually going to do something that matters."

"Thanks, I hope so." She said, ducking her head as she twirling her fork into her spaghetti, "I just… you know, childhood is such an important time and helping kids get a good start is super important to me."

"What got you into that?"

At that, El looked up, hesitant for a moment, "Personal experience," she finally said as she reached for her glass of wine, taking a deep pull.

"Oh," Mike said quick, "Sorry, I -"

"- Don't be," she waved his hesitation of with a brush of her hand, "I just had a couple hard years in the foster care system after my mom died and before my adopted Dad got me out of it. I want to make it easier for other people who end up in the system."

Everything about El suddenly seemed a little different as she spoke so plainly about her life. The air felt a little heavier and a little less like a dream. A little more like all of this around them was actually real.

"I'm sorry," Mike said soberly, "That's… really cool of you though, wanting to help others. So, is it just you and your dad now?"

"It was," El replied, biting her lip as she seemed to form a new thought, "My dad just got remarried a couple months ago so I guess I have brothers now. That's weird."

"Bad weird?"

"No, I don't think so. I haven't spent enough time with them to feel any like, familial bond or anything, but they're nice. I was supposed to stay with my step-brother for the night in Chicago but it doesn't look like that is happening anymore. Looks like my dad should be able to pick me up now with this layover. Oh," she blanched, "I need to let them know my flight was cancelled."

"Oh you're right," Mike said with a guilty laugh. Mike knew that Will would put up with a lot, but making Will go to the airport when Mike wasn't even going to fly in for a whole other day… that might be pushing it, "I completely forgot. I need to call my roommate when we get back to the room."

"Anyway," El continued, "I'll see my new brothers at Christmas in a couple of weeks, though, so ask me again after that."

"So, you don't live in Chicago?"

El shook her head, "I grew up in Indianapolis but - "

"Oh really?" Mike said, his eyebrows perking in surprise, "I'm from Indiana, too!"

"Really?" El asked, suddenly wide eyed.

"Yeah," he replied, shrugging dismissively, "I'm from the boonies, though, nothing like Indianapolis. I went straight to college in Chicago and never looked back. Where'd you go to school?"

"IU in Bloomington. You?"

"Valparasio."

"Oh, that's cool," El said, taking a sip of her wine, "So, do you like Chicago? Are you staying there now that you're on your way back?"

"Gosh, I haven't thought about it yet, really," Mike replied, almost surprised that he hadn't asked himself that question in the intervening weeks, "I mean, I still have my apartment there. I rented out my room for the semester but I thought maybe I'd have a better idea of what I wanted to do when I got back."

"Not so much?"

"It's like…" Mike sighed, "Even more confusing than before?"

"I get that," El said, "You should do what you love, though. I mean, no better time to do it."

"How do you mean?"

She shrugged and played with her food as she continued, "I don't know. It's something my mom always told me before she passed away. She um.. she always told me that when you're young that's the best time to do the stuff that other people think is crazy, because you have less holding you back. The older you get the more things pop up, responsibilities and stuff, to slow you down, so she always recommended the 'This might be your last day, live for today' approach."

"You mom sounds like she was really cool."

"She was the best," El replied wistfully, "I try to live by that advice. Not to get too caught up in the money and what the world says we're 'supposed to do'. So, you should write book, you know? What do you have to lose?"

He tried to find an answer, but "Nothing," was the answer that he found.

Her eyes lit up at his answer, "Well, you have nothing to lose, then definitely do it."

He found a nervous laugh crawling it's way from his chest. Heavy, overwhelmed, punch drunk. "Wait, you don't even know if I'm a good writer."

El's smile was demure and she avoided his eyes as she replied, "I'm sure you're a good writer."

Mike drained his glass, his skin heating.. Something was happening within him. Her words, so full of surety despite knowing nothing about him at all, had hit him in the chest like a bullseye, shaking his core in a way that released a sensation of inspiration so intense that he had a hard time keeping himself in the chair. His back had straightened in his chair. His lungs had filled. He let something inside of himself believe her. He felt her words strike like flint, lighting embers in his chest that had laid dormant for months.

"You're going to be a great social worker."

She looked up, surprised, "Why do you say that?"

"Because if you're anywhere near as good at talking to kids about their futures as you are talking to me, they'll all be in great hands."

El beamed, the fire dancing in the depths of her eyes, "Thank you. I'm um… I'm glad." Her fingers danced across the tabletop in quick succession, reaching for the stem of her wine glass and taking a large drink of the jammy red he'd erroneously ordered yet was so very glad they'd received.

They finished up shortly after. The table had been cleared of anything edible, and the dining room had emptied of people during their conversation. Mike had completely missed how much time had gone by, but by the time they got up to leave not even the waiters were clearly visible.

They made their way out of the door before El stopped in her tracks, held up her finger to get him to wait for a second, and bounded gleefully back through the restaurant door. When she retuned, he noticed that her sweater was wrapped around her arm, pulled to her chest. Only when he had re-entered the hotel room did she present what she'd been hiding.

She looked guiltily delightful as she showed him a stolen half-bottle of wine. "I noticed it on the table next to us. They'd abandoned it," she admitted.

"You're a thief!" Mike cried, dumbfounded and wonderfully tipsy, "I thought your dad was a cop!"

"I'm not a thief!" she retorted, slapping him playfully on the arm, "This was going to go to waste! I'm just… recycling it!" She shot him a sly smile before bringing the bottle straight to her lips and taking a swig, then handing him the bottle.

Mike stared at the bottle, the invitation glorious and exciting. She looked so comfortable and giddy as she handed him the bottle, her dress matching the wine stain that now painted her lips. Her eyes watched him expectantly, and when he met her gaze, this time he did not look away. Something within him, something absolutely insane, was dancing with anticipation. Futile he was sure, but just the mere sensation of spending dinner with her… it had been the most fun he'd had on his entire trip.

And it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.

Mike's nerves danced like fire as his fingers brushed against hers and he took the bottle from her grasp. He laid his lips to it, directly where her's had been just seconds prior, and took a drink.

* * *

Oh man this fic is fun to write. Would love to hear your thoughts! Drop a review or hit me up on IG at el - borealis or Tumblr at el_borealis!


	3. Chapter 3

El held the door with her shoulder and leaned into the room. She searched the wall until her hand fell upon the light switch. Flipping it on, she was met with a space that looked no larger than it had before. Quite the contrary, it looked even smaller now that their bags littered the corners, clogging up the minimal empty space… leaving the bed as the only large expanse of clear space in the entire room.

Mike entered behind her, brushing against her without awareness as he passed. His arm skirted softly along her shoulder, causing a fresh shimmer of sensation to glide down her spine. Her eyes locked upon him as he crossed through the tiny vestibule and into the room, catching at his feet and scanning up the full length of his well-fitted jeans and his lean back, wrapped in the softest looking green sweater...

She swallowed hard.

She was nervous. Very nervous.

But it was definitely _not_ the kind of nerves that she was used to.

Tonight, she wasn't worried about finding a way to connect. Rather, she was worried that she might not be able to stop herself from trying to connect… _further_.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something within her had shifted dangerously during dinner. Sure, yes, he was incredibly cute. That fact alone had thrown her into a tizzy from the very beginning of this crazy situation. Yet, somewhere between shaking his hand as they'd entered a fictional time-traveling alliance and the enigmatic look in his eye when she'd reassured him that he was a good writer, El had fallen off of some kind of deep end.

The sensation was nameless and it spoke without words. It spoke in the shaking of her knees and the flip of her stomach. In the indelible pull her eyes felt to his every move. It spoke through the warmth that grew in her chest when he laughed and the heady buzz that emanated from something as small as where he'd brushed against her while walking through the door.

She was crushing. Hard.

How could she have expected anything else? The way that he joked was so self-effacing and genuine. It was clear that he was incredibly smart. His mind had such an interesting way of toiling over even the most inane things, his replies continually keeping her on her toes. The expressions that lit up his face as he talked and listened… they were so deep and warm and alive...

Of course she was feeling this way… _He was wonderful. _

With a deep breath, El let the door slip from her fingers. The door latch seemed to echo through the room as it caught, closing them in. Alone.

Mike turned at the sound, his fingers raking through his hair, a hint of hesitation tightening at the edges of his eyes.

She felt it too, and with a tremulous flutter, she grasped for relief. This time, relief was a tangible object. It resided within a small bundle that she'd made with her sweater. A half-bottle of wine, swiped from a nearby empty table at the restaurant. She'd taken it for this exact reason. As a diversion, a distraction... As a concrete place to put her lips.

Mike, however, did not seem prepared for the bottle's arrival. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I noticed it on the table next to us," she said with a guilty spark, "They'd abandoned it."

Mike let out a teasing laugh. "You're a thief! I thought your dad was a cop!"

"I'm not a thief!" El gasped playfully, her hand coming to her heart, "This was going to go to waste. I'm just… recycling it!" And with that, she brought it to her lips. The red wine was more acidic than the bottle that they'd been drinking before, but she tried to ignore it. Pulling it away, she offered it in his direction.

He caught her eye as he accepted the bottle, his expression unreadable yet heavy…

...and in that instant everything for her got very real.

She could feel each square foot of the teeny tiny space, with its single icy window and its heavy door closed upon them. She could almost hear the silence, it's emptiness pressing in around both of them. Mostly, she could feel the heat. But that wasn't coming from the air. That wasn't coming from the room.

That was coming from her.

_Wine?! What was she thinking_?!

She was tipsy, yes! But she was _not_ drunk enough to forget that some sense of decorum needed to stay in place! Instead, here she was, chucking extra wine on the fire?! There were so many reasons for her to keep her cool. Her mind frantically screamed them at her as he drank. He could have a girlfriend! Maybe he was gay! It was possible that he was just a really nice guy who didn't see her that way at all! And here she was… one step away from launching herself at him.

She really _really_ _**really **_needed to stop. _Now_.

"Do you want to watch TV?" El chirped, wincing at the high frantic pitch of her voice. She spun to the TV behind her and flipped it on in an instant. Sound filled the room, slicing through her tension with the voices of an Italian news show.

Mike regarded her with a curious chew of his lip, "Sure, but I'm going to warn you it's likely going to be dubbed into Italian."

She waved off his facts with her hand and quickly crossed the room, dropping down to sit on the far edge of the bed. So far at the edge, in fact, that she was at risk of falling off. "Maybe you can translate, then?"

"Oh?" Mike replied, his eyebrow raising in playful self-deprecation, "So you want a full fictional retelling of anything we watch?"

El was pretty sure that at this point she would listen to his fictional retelling of literally any story ever written, but she bit back her thought and simply nodded, smoothing out her skirt and pulling her most innocent closed lipped smile as she did so.

"Ha, okay," Mike grabbed the remote and shuffled back to the bed, placing the wine bottle down between them on the floor. She was aware of the care with which he chose his own spot to sit, settling toward the other far end of the bed, giving her the maximum amount of space.

Yes._ Space. _A very good thing to maintain.

She found herself calculating the inches between them as Mike surfed the channels. Each one felt like a useful tool to bring herself back to reality. Forcing a deep mind-clearing breath, she turned her attention to the TV.

Maybe this was nothing, she tried to remind herself as the channels passed. Maybe the driving momentum of her heart was not a result of overwhelming attraction, but rather due to simple deprivation? Maybe spending time with _anyone_ would have felt this intense after the weeks that she had spent alone?

Maybe?

"El?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to Mike. To his big eyes regarding her with the slightest hint of worry. It was incredible, the stark contrast between the pale of his skin and the dark depths of his gaze. It was a duality that seemed to turn off the words in her brain. He was chewing his lip again, his teeth pinching down enough to heighten the red stain of his lips, full and lush and -

"El?" He repeated, his brow creasing, "You okay?"

_Oops. She wasn't talking. _

"Y-yeah," she blurted on a quick exhale, pulling a hurried smile, silently counting the inches between them again, as though it was a mantra. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah," he benevolently let her odd behavior slide. He gestured to the TV, "I was asking if Home Alone was okay. There's uh… not much else."

El looked at the TV and made a split second calculation:

A movie about a ten year old boy enacting vigilante justice on home intruders… A family film about vengeance and the Christmas spirit… A movie completely devoid of flirting, first kisses or any scenes where the lights dimmed and clothing disappeared…

It was perfect.

El nodded and Mike put down the remote in reply. The dubbed Italian voice that replaced Macaulay Culkin's filled the room. The young boy was curled up in a chair on the screen, doing much the same as them: staring at a tv with a remote in his hand. Yet, he was surrounded by treats. Decadent ice cream. Soda cans. Bags of chips...

Every part of her frenzied body began to beg for those distractions as she watch. Distractions for her fingers. Distractions for her lips. Distractions for her stomach, so that maybe it would finally stop flipping.

"We should have made them feed us dessert," El found herself saying.

"Are you still hungry?"

She ventured a glance Mike's way and noted his surprise.

"Hungry? No," she looked back at the TV and dropped her voice, her admission coming out like a guilty secret, "But wanting snacks? Always."

Mike went silent and El tried to focus back on the movie, but after a few seconds the bed beneath her creaked.

Mike had bounded to his feet.

El looked up in surprise, "What are you doing?"

"Oh!" He jerked his thumb toward the hallway, "I saw a vending machine, I can - "

"- Oh! You don't have to - "

He waved her off as he opened the door, "I saw something in the vending machine that you, um, that you have to try. I'll be right back."

And like that... he was gone.

El wasn't sure how long she stared at the door in surprise, her jaw slack as she attempted to catch up. But once she did, the agonized giddiness inside of her became irrepressible.

"_Ohmy__**god**__-_" The whisper fell from her lips as her body collapsed backward upon the bed. He had just run to get her treats?! It was such a tiny kindness, and nothing to read into, but that didn't stop her from doing it anyway. Her mind followed him down the hallway, her heart beating fast as she pictured him doing something as mundane as choosing buttons on a machine to get her snacks.

She groaned, her hands streaking through her hair with a tense pull. In his absence, she could feel the physical toll that he was taking on her. She could feel the muscles in her face that were beginning to become sore from smiling, and the butterflies that were wreaking absolute havoc in her stomach. Her eyes slipped shut but her smile remained stuck there, playing upon the hot rosy blush of her cheeks.

She let out a frustrated whimper.

_She really needed to pull it together. _

The door creaked and El snapped back up to sitting, once again smoothing out her dress so that it didn't ride up her thighs. Mike shouldered the door open. In his hands was a small bundle of snacks. He smiled sheepishly and dropped his bounty in the expanse of bed between their seats.

"You really didn't need to do this," El said, though she couldn't hide her grateful smile.

"No, it's fine," he reassured her. He picked up his first choice from the small pile as he sat back on the bed, a chip bag labeled 'Crik Crok'. "Have you had these? They're probably my favorite Italian snack food."

"I haven't."

He looked back at the pile, thoughts moving quickly through his expressions as though he was trying to calculate something. Then, decision seemingly made, he dropped the chip bag and looked back up to her, his eyes earnest, "You strike me as more of a sweets person than chips, am I right?"

El tried not to let her smile grow larger. She failed. "You are correct."

Mike nodded obediently, "Then how about..." he plucked a package from the small pile and presented it to her with a playful flourish, "Nutella Breadsticks?"

El knew that her pupils had gone wide. "Yesssss…" she purred, accepting the package.

"And then," he examined the two remaining packages before shrugging, "I have to admit I haven't had either of these. I don't know if they're any good. I just emptied all my pocket change into the machine and this is everything I could get."

"This is amazing, " El beamed, "I can give you money when we land?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Mike replied with a brush of his hand, "It's just pocket change. It was probably just going to go into the back of my junk drawer when I got home, anyway."

"Okay, well, thank you?"

Mike smiled back in reply, his cheeks turning the slightest bit pink, "Yeah, no problem."

His smile was so delightful. Boyish. Innocent. Kind. She -

_Distractions._ She needed them. **_Now._**

El quickly turned back to the TV, her fingers fumbling against the wrapper of the Nutella, ripping it opening, and doing everything in her power to focus on anything other than the young man beside her.

Luckily, it actually worked. Well, at least a little bit. The myriad of distractions all at once overloaded her senses just enough to chill her out, and for a little while Mike and El fell into a more simple rhythm. Mike answered El's translation questions between the crunching of chips and careful sips of wine. And El? She paid more attention to the snacks, her fingers quickly becoming sticky and her lips dusting with powdered sugar.

And as time went on, Mike showed himself to be an excellent translator. Maybe he wasn't getting all the words right, but he was definitely selling it well. He had fallen into a habit of giving each character a different voice, a choice that resulted in him performing his own little impromptu radio plays for her during scenes with multiple characters. As the movie played on he got more animated, his face lighting up whenever he spoke, moving his hands and almost acting it out as he went. It was honestly more entertaining than the movie itself, and little bit by little bit it made everything feel easy, once again. Just like at dinner.

Mike didn't seem nervous about their circumstances. He didn't seem to be worrying about what would happen... or would _not_ happen. He just seemed to be enjoying his night, his energy so genuine and dorky and easygoing that she almost could have forgotten all of the crazy details that had brought them here. And while it didn't necessarily ease her attraction to him (quite the opposite, really), he was making the situation itself easier. And for that she was immensely grateful.

Eventually, on the screen, Kevin McAllister pushed a full tool chest down a staircase, trapping the home intruder against a wall.

"You know, I always feel like this could've happened to me." Mike said out of nowhere.

"What?" El turned to him, "You think you're parents would've forgotten you at home for a whole week?"

"Oh, definitely," Mike said with a resolute nod. He laughed then, sardonic and dry, "I can guarantee this could've happened to me. My parents were always distracted by something. They stopped even knowing where we were when I was about twelve. I basically lived at my best friend's house for most of high school."

"They just didn't pay attention?"

"Not really," Mike said, turning to her a bit, "I take it having a cop as a Dad means a tighter ship?"

El shrugged, "Not too tight, but I can't say my Dad was ever unaware of where I was. It was just the two of us, though, so I was easy to keep track of."

"Yeah, that makes sense. I'm the middle of three kids, so it was easy to get overlooked." Mike's eyes trailed back to the TV then and he took another sip of wine. A subtle tension had built up around his eyes.

It was odd, how strong her urge was to reach out for his hand. To clutch his fingers in hopes that it would make the tension bleed from his features. That move, however, was definitely off the table. "You probably could've concocted really good traps for intruders, at least," she found herself offering lightly.

Mike glanced toward her, "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," El said with a shrug, "You seem really smart and creative? I bet you'd outwit all of the home intruders."

He smiled then, though it seemed like he was trying to fight it back, making his lips contorting in such an adorable way. He didn't say anything else, but he didn't look back at the TV either. Whether it lasted for a second or a minute, El wasn't sure. She was too busy relishing in how his face had softened at her words, wanting to study each bit of his expression, happy she could have said something to make his cloud of unease slip away.

Almost like snapping out of a trance, Mike's eyes popped open wide. His lips began to stumble, "Um… so," he cleared his throat and looked down to the small pile of empty wrappers between them. "Which one was your favorite?"

"Oh," she looked down at the trash, as well. The answer to the question wasn't the first thing that dawned on her when she looked down,though. Instead, she couldn't help but notice that the inches between them had shrunk, almost by half… She kept her attention resolutely glued to the wrappers, though, contorting her features to make it look like she was considering his question. After a few seconds and a scattered breath, she picked up a package that said '_Mr. Days_'. "These were really good. Better than any donuts stateside."

"I'd say I'd want to try one but it seems like you didn't leave me an option," Mike teased.

El winced, "I'm sorry! You seemed happy with the chips!"

Mike's smile went wide, soft, devoid of annoyance, "I'm kidding. It's okay. They were good?"

She felt a bit of blush return to her cheeks as she nodded. "Super good. They had this flavor that reminded me of... Eggos? Just a little bit."

"They tasted like toaster waffles? Weird."

El scoffed, "Weird? I think you mean 'amazing'. I miss them."

Mike pulled a face, "You miss... Eggos?"

El was hesitant in her reply. "Yes?"

"But - didn't you say you traveled through Belgium? Didn't you get to eat, you know, _real_ waffles?"

El nodded, "Oh yeah, I ate many Belgian waffles. I still miss Eggos."

Mike seemed absolutely gobsmacked by this fact, shaking his head with a snicker, "You're kidding. They're just - "

"Amazing?" she interrupted, swiping the wine from his hand for a drink, "Were you going to say amazing?"

"I was going to say processed," he retorted, his voice turning dramatic, "but it _seems_ my opinion isn't respected here."

El snorted and handed him bak the bottle. "Not if it's disparaging about Eggos."

"So what was was so bad about real Belgian waffles?" he challenged.

"Oh, the real thing was great. Don't get me wrong. They're big and airy and crispy. But the processed version? They have their own charm. Not every cheap mass market thing can stand on its own, but Eggos can."

"Okay," he took a sip of wine and considered her for a moment, the movie at this point long forgotten. He then turned to her fully, brushing the snack wrappers to the floor as he pulled his knee onto the bed between them as he handed her the wine bottle, "So, what real stuff do you think _is_ better than the mass market version?"

"Chocolates." She said it without pause. "The most important thing I learned on this trip is that America has terrible chocolate."

"Really? I don't think I ate, well..." Mike thought for a moment before he shook his head, "Nope, I didn't eat any chocolate while I was here."

"What?!" El cried, scandalized, "What did you do this whole time? Go to class?"

"I was here to go to class!"

El turned to face him directly, her knee pulling into the space between them, just like his. Pointing the wine bottle at him, her tone grew adamant, "Promise me you'll come back and do all the indulgent stuff next time, okay?"

Mike's smile turned up. He didn't speak for a moment, but he eventually nodded. "Yeah, I promise."

"Good." At that, she handed him back the bottle and twisted sideways to reach for her backpack. Catching the strap between her fingers, she tugged it toward her. Unzipping it's front compartment, she carefully lifted out a small box and popped it open before turning back and presenting it to him. "Let this be your first taste. These are chocolates I picked up in Paris. I think they might be the best thing I've ever tasted."

Mike regarded the contents of the box for a moment, each small piece nestled in its own tissue paper. "Best thing you've ever tasted, huh?" his eyebrow quirked playfully, "Better than Eggos?"

El rolled her eyes and jutted the package in his direction, "Just take a chocolate. That is, _if_ you're willing to ruin chocolate for yourself for the rest of your life."

Mike shrugged dismissively, "Well, I don't really like chocolate all that much, so that wouldn't be too bad."

"Oh, you say you that now, but you haven't tried these."

Mike cocked his head, his lips turning up into a maddening smirk. "You're very confident about this, aren't you?"

"Very," she said, scooting closer, pressing the box directly under his nose. "Now, are you going to take a chocolate or not?" Finally, Mike gave in. His long slender fingers hovered over the box. It was clear that he did not know which to choose. Impatient, El chose for him, plucking one from the corner and holding it out to him. He took it from the tips of her fingers. El ignored the slight shock of electricity from his touch and tried to focus on the chocolate, instead. She quickly chose one for herself and popped it into her mouth, savoring the luscious flavor before Mike had so much as taken a bite. Mike regarded his curiously and then finally took a small bite. She watched as he let it melt on his lips, his eyes dropping shut, and then popping open… very wide.

"Oh my god…"

"Right?!" El exclaimed, "Americans have been deprived of good chocolate this entire time."

"Oh my goddd..." he muttered again, inspecting the bit he hadn't eaten yet, "It's so... rich? I was prepared for, I don't know, a Hershey bar or something."

"Nope," she said, taking another chocolate and dropping it onto her tongue. Her words were slightly obscured when she spoke. "Do you believe me now?"

In reply, Mike popped the rest of his chocolate into his mouth and nodded, topping it off with a mumbled, "Yes, I believe you."

The room was silent for a moment as they savored the sweets. El placed the box down on top of her bag and turned back to him. She tried not to notice that their knees were almost touching... but she didn't move back either...

"So, you got these in Paris?" Mike asked.

"Mmhmm."

"What was Paris like?"

"Paris is… beautiful… It's very old world and, I don't know, it feels romantic."

The streets populated her mind's eye. Thin intimate winding cobblestone streets that felt like they led to places she so desperately wanted to explore...

"How long were you there?"

_...places that she'd never wanted to explore alone…_

El felt a familiar sadness slip over her at the question, just a bit, but she put on a brave face and met his gaze. "I was, um, I was supposed to be there for two weeks, but I left after four days since we moved up my return date."

Confusion clouded Mike's expression, "You weren't supposed to go home today?"

El shook her head, "No I… I had to hurry up the rest of my trip. Not enough money. I stopped in Geneva for a day between here and Paris. I got here yesterday. And now?" she gestured around her, "Here I am."

"Oh, wow. So, you didn't see Italy at all?"

El shrugged, "Nope, not really."

He was quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what to say next. "Are you, uh, sad that you're going home sooner than you'd planned?"

The question felt more forward than anything he had asked all night, but the look in his eye was so sincere. And as she regarded him, his dark eyes on hers, soft and welcoming, a whisper in her heart found itself... grateful... that she'd changed her plans.

She shook her head, "No… traveling alone gets… well, it gets lonely."

"I know what you mean," was all he said.

And she could see in his eyes that he absolutely did. She smiled gratefully, and her next words came more easily, "I thought I'd meet other people doing the same thing as me, you know? People going the same direction, or at least some people to spend the day with, but that didn't really happen," she looked away as she admitted her next thought, "Just like, I wanted to share parts of it with someone? Something I saw or something I ate or music I heard. I just, I don't know, I never really thought about companionship before this trip," Her eyes trailed back up to his, "Now it's all I can think about."

Mike was nodding, "I get that."

"Yeah?" her voice was hardly a whisper.

"Yeah," He looked down and began to fidget with a loose thread on the bedspread as he continued, "I don't think I even thought twice about how lonely my trip would be," he rolled his eyes at himself and laughed, "That sounds so stupid now but… I mean, I went to college with a couple of really good friends from home so it had always been easy to make friends. But this semester? I don't know. It was like there was a… a wall between me and everyone else?"

"Yeah," El agreed, her eyes going wide, "It's like... it takes a second to figure out how to relate to someone, but by the time you figure it out the person has usually moved along to the next thing."

Mike nodded with a light laugh, "Not to mention language barriers. It kind of seemed by my third week that all of my classmates just saw me as that weird silent American."

"I'm sorry," El said, empathetic, "At least now you get to go home and see your friends? Are they in Chicago?"

Mike nodded, "Yeah. Well, at least one of them is. My roommate. Then, the holidays are right around the corner so I'll see most of them then," As was becoming a pattern, she could see the gears turning in Mike's mind as his expression changed. He pursed his lips before he spoke, "Will you get to see friends at Christmas? Or like a…" his eyes caught hers before just as quickly darting away, "Like a... boyfriend or anything?"

El's heart fluttered something fierce. Her tongue scramble to reply, "No… I um… haven't had one of those for a while."

"Oh. Yeah, me either. I um- a girlfriend, I mean." He looked up then, smiling shyly. El felt herself doing the same.

It was at that moment that El realized that every distraction that she'd tried to put in place had failed. Her body heat had begun to rise again. The inches between them could now be counted on one hand. Her fingers curled into her dress for grounding. She blinked fast, shaking her head to right her thoughts, "Friends, though? I don't know. All my friends went off in different directions after college, and my dad just moved in with his new wife, so that'll be a new experience. It'll at least be nice to see my dad."

"That's good. Well, at least you had an amazing trip," he said, "I just - god. Getting lost all over the continent, what a cool thing to do."

"Yeah," she nodded, "That part was pretty cool."

"I mean, I'm sure it got lonely but you just went out there and did whatever you wanted on whatever timeline you wanted. And you didn't let anything stop you from doing that," his voice was wistful, "I wish I'd done that instead."

El's heart tugged at his words, and her next words spilled from her without thought, "If I had all the money in the world I'd postpone our flights and drag you around to all the good stuff about Europe."

"That would be amazing," he said without delay, his smile beaming, "because tonight with you is by far my favorite night I've had in Europe and we're just stuck inside drinking stolen wine."

El's heart had stopped at his words. "This is your favorite night you've had?"

Mike laughed to himself, his cheeks beginning to turn pink. "How would anything I've told you about my trip compare to this? I mean," He gestured around them, "I'm spending the entire night drinking great wine and eating the best chocolate I've ever had with this super smart and pretty girl who's -"

Like a snap, Mike looked away, his eyes popping wide, his lips frozen mid-word, as if he were caught in a trap.

"You think I'm pretty?" she asked, her voice dancing with a hopeful waver that she could not control.

His reply was adorably incredulous. His brow curled as he looked back and stared at her in disbelief, "Have you seen yourself?!"

A hiccup of a laugh came from El's chest.

"Yes, you're pretty," He said adamantly, owning the admission with a supremely embarrassed blush, "_Really_ pretty."

It was gravitationally impossible, but El was sure that she was about to float off of the bed. She knew she should have said something in reply. Reassurance. Anything that would put him at ease. Her lips, though… _They betrayed her_. They took the bait and conspired with the dizzying pulse of her heart, and before she knew it she stretched forward, closing all space between them in an instant, and kissed him.

He emitted a soft moan of surprise as her lips fell upon his, quick and soft. Her senses scrambled with the intimate scent of him, and though her lips fell away from his after a short moment, she lingered in his space, her breath shallow.

"This is the best night of my trip, too." she whispered, hardly able to use her voice.

"W-what?" Mike stuttered, his voice ragged.

A hitch of bravery made her look up and catch his eye. The admission felt delicious on her lips. "This is the best night of my trip."

Mike exhaled sharply in reply. His eyes, almost black, were wide with shock. In that heavy split second of silence a shimmer of nerves shot down her back. Second guesses, retreats, misread signals -

\- But then he _moved_. With a speed that she never could have expected, he reached for her, his hand coming to cradle her jaw as his lips caught hers in a blistering kiss. A whimper escaped her, dying upon his mouth. Sparks flew behind her eyes as she kissed him back, tilting her head just so into the cradle of his hand, and for that moment everything seemed to fade away. The hotel room retreated, and along with it went the city, the date, the year, and every circumstance that had brought them to this moment. It was just him, his hand skirting against her jaw, his lips moving upon hers with a sense of release that made her certain… she had never been alone in how she was feeling.

It was a delicious release.

She reached for him, her hand tracing his jaw in a way that she'd been dreaming about doing all night. Her fingers found their way to his neck, her pinky entering the black strands of his hair. Up on her knees, she pulled even closer, and Mike caught her, his arm snaking around the small of her back in a way that made her stumble over, taking him with her down onto the bed.

Something in her purred ferociously as her body fell into his. She had been deprived of touch, wanting something like this for weeks, but the quality of Mike's touch was so far beyond her sense of comprehension that she could hardly process it. Her body buzzed as his hands slid up her back, firm yet so incredibly soft, with a reverence that made her feel like she was made of porcelain. Her nerves fired in his direction, attempting to escape from her skin, every part of her exclaiming a warm '_yes_' over and over again.

It had never felt like this.

She had kissed people before, many times. She had had her fair share of intimate encounters, and she'd almost always enjoyed them. But this? This sense of _need?_ This feeling growing within her that begging to simply melt into him? This was something that she had never felt before.

She never wanted it to end.

And in that moment, bittersweet reality itched at the edges. The hours were ticking away. Leading to different cities. Different lives.

She very possibly only had tonight.

A shock of urgency surged through her, and it made her kiss him harder.

She kissed him for his kindness and his self effacing laugh. She kissed him for the depths of care in his eyes and the soft gentleman that he'd been to her all day and night. She kissed him with gratitude for his companionship. She kissed him for her sheer selfish want. She kissed him so hard that he gasped against her mouth, and she felt him shiver to his toes. Growing delirious, her lips drew away, charting new territories across his jaw. His breath fanned in a surprised huff against her ear, his very essence making itself known. She surrendered her body to him as his arms tightened around her back, shifting her in a way that brought her body tight against his. The rhythm of his breath seemed to pulsate in time with the movement of her lips at the base of his collar bone, her cheek laying against the comforting softness of his sweater. His fingers dug into her dress above her hips as she continued along to the lobe of his ear, bunching the fabric in his fingers in reply to her lips movements.

She didn't even think as her hands darted to the tie of her dress, desperately wanting it to disappear. Fumbling the wrap tie open, she dropped the ties and reached up to her shoulder - but her hand wasn't the only one there.

Clamping down upon her almost immediately, Mike's hand stopped hers and his lips pulled away. She almost whined from the loss, like a splash of cold water.

"El."

His voice was ragged, yet firm. Her eyes slid open to meet him face on, so very close. His expression danced with conflict. Pupils blown wide. Bruised red lips. Cheeks flushed. Hesitation threading through his brow. His eyes dropped shut for a moment as he breathed, heavy and stilted, an internal world cut off from her as he seemed to confer with himself. His eyes slid back open in a flash, a decision made.

"I - I don't want to take advantage of this situation," he finally said, "We've been drinking and we have nowhere else to go except for this room."

"Are you drunk?" she asked, her voice raspy.

He licked his lips, his breath heavy, "A little. Not a lot. You?"

"A little. Not a lot," she agreed. A shudder cut down her as she held his gaze, "You're not taking advantage of anything, Mike. I - I want this."

His eyes widened, deep and so incredibly dark.

Her next words trembled vulnerable upon her lips, "Do you?"

"Do I want this?" he breathed.

El nodded.

"_Yes_," Mike's exhalation was absolute, his breath continued heavy, rising and falling against her as she laid upon his chest, "I just… I want you to feel… safe."

The softest sensation played on El's heart, and it beamed from her eyes as she held his gaze, "I feel really safe."

"Yeah?" He asked, his expression growing so innocently hopeful.

"Yes."

And at that moment she brought her lips back to his, softer than before. It was stunning, how easy it felt, and the absolutely perfect way that his lips molded with hers. His fingers brushed so delicately against her cheek, catching her hair and slipping it behind her ear, his fingers ghosting ever so slowly against her skin. Her lips fell from his as she relished in his touch, her forehead dropping upon his as she breathed him in.

"Do you have protection?" she breathed.

"You want to do stuff that requires protection?" his whisper was instant, boyish, surprised.

El laughed, befuddled, "Yes? I thought… isn't that what we were talking about…?" her eyes went wide, "Do _you_ want to do stuff that requires protection?"

He stared at her for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. Then, in a flurry, he pulled himself out from beneath her and practically launched himself from the bed. His arms reached frantically for his backpack in a way that was so ridiculous and clumsy that she laughed out loud. He seemed to find what he was looking for quickly. He dropped it on the bedside table and wasted no time before he was back in her arms, his lips finding hers with renewed fire…

* * *

_How?_

How was he lying here holding this _amazing_ woman as the sun rose?

How could he have ever found himself like this? With a vibrating haze buzzing at the edges of his eyes, rendering him in something akin to a trance? How could he have ever been so lucky as to know what it felt like to touch her, or to hear her pleasured gasps pulsating against his ear as he did so? How could so many hours have passed like this, with her skin against his skin?

_And how was she still here_?! In what world would this girl ever want to lay with him like his? With her hair fanned out on his collarbones, her head cradled gently in his shoulder, her fingers tracing soft caresses against the bare skin of his chest? From the moment she'd kissed him (_she'd _kissed **_him_**!?) she'd been everywhere. Her hands clutching him. Her body pulling close, close, closer into his. Her lips… everywhere. Without stopping. For hours. As though she also, somehow, never wanted to pull away.

How?

Maybe that wasn't the right question to ask. Maybe there _were_ no questions to ask. Maybe he could just allow himself to close his eyes and bask in the absolute mind altering perfection that he was somehow living at this ver moment. Because… _wow_.

_Wow._

_Holy shit. **Wow**_**.**

He had never felt like this before. Not once in his life. Exhausted yet exhilarated. So deeply satisfied yet oddly aching for more. Body on fire but heart so soft that he'd be happy to never do anything again other than to lay here and twist her hair through his fingers for the rest of eternity.

But eternity was the one thing that truly he didn't have.

It was likely that he was getting ahead of herself, but he could feel the loss of her already. It seemed against his better logic to comprehend how he could stop kissing her now that the knew what it felt like. To simply go their separate ways when their time ran out. He knew that the buzz in his body would not simply recede. It would call for her for weeks, begging to return to her. Words materialized on his tongue, desperate and wanting. But he knew better. It was all so premature. Asking to see her in Indiana during Christmas. Asking for the right to call her every day. Asking her to move to Chicago and be by his side every waking moment. He knew that was about ten, twenty, thirty steps too far ahead. And so, he waged a war to make the words die on his tongue.

At least he had now.

His arm tightened around her, his hand resting on the soft skin at the small of her back. She responded in kind, pulling herself closer to him, her heat transmitting directly into his bare skin. He reached up with his free hand and pulled the blankets a little higher up over them both.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked softly against her ear.

"Mmhmm.." she purred, nuzzling deeper into him, her thigh stretching sideways over his leg.

"We should probably try to get some sleep. We probably have to go to the airport in a few hours."

She groaned at his assertion like a disobedient child, "Or," She shimmied up his side and laid her head on the pillow, catching his gaze, her smile sleepy yet playful, "Or… we don't go to the airport and we stay here."

Mike's heart leapt out of his chest.

"You want to stay here?"

"I don't think the hotel would let us, but we could try."

Mike was done hiding the intensity of his smile. He nodded, lowering his voice with conspiring playfulness, "Maybe we could hide."

"Where would we hide?" she asked, her eyes wide and bright.

Without hesitation, Mike pulled the blanket over both of their heads, El giggled, rustling beneath, "We could hide in here. No one would ever find us under here."

"Good idea," El said, and the next thing he knew she had found his lips again, her fingers laying gently against his cheek. His lips felt bruised after so many hours. Yet honestly? He didn't care. He would take any level of discomfort if she wanted to kiss him again and again and again.

It was absolutely breathtaking but... everything about her felt… right? He couldn't explain it. She at the same time felt so new and exciting but also so… familiar? Like he'd known her forever, and like he didn't want to stop.

"El," he breathed against her lips.

"Yes?"

Perhaps being a_ little _forward wouldn't hurt, right?

"If we're, you know, forced out of this hotel room against our will... Maybe I can, I don't know, trade seats or something? Maybe we can fly back to the states together?"

"Where are you sitting?" El said, her voice melodic in her question.

"Business class. You?"

"Definitely not business class," she admitted, "Kind of the opposite of business class. I think I'm in the last row, by the bathrooms."

"Okay, it'll be easy then."

"Huh?"

"Anyone would trade me if they're sitting all the way back there."

El was quiet for a moment. When she did speak, he could hear a smile upon her words, "You'd give up a business class seat to sit in the back with me... by the bathrooms… for a ten hour flight?"

"Gladly," he said, his tone resolute.

El giggled, curling into him, "That is the most romantic gesture anyone has ever made for me."

"Only if you'd want me to."

"Oh," she breathed, her lips crawling up his neck, causing his breath to fall shallow, "I definitely want you to."

And then, El's lips were on his again, in such a gloriously easy way. She pulled herself into him, her fingers mingling in his most definitely messy hair. He gave into her then, breathing a sigh of relief that a little more time with her had been secured. The sense of urgency within him mellowed, and he sank into the pillow, his eyes falling shut beneath the darkness of the blankets. And as they kissed, soft and languid, his mind began to slip away, rest finally finding a foothold.

It seemed mutual, and without noticing they both slipped off to sleep in the early morning sun… with no alarm set for their flight home.

* * *

_Happy New Years, readers! I hope you a beautiful 2020. 1-2 more chapters of this left! _


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi lovely readers! So, I haven't mentioned this before because it had no real bearing on the story and I just kind of forgot to mention it, but this takes place in 1993, which is the year that they would be 22-23ish in canon. And with that little detail, enjoy!_

* * *

Time felt malleable. It stretched and pulled like taffy until El wasn't even sure if it was passing at all. And truly? She would have preferred it if it paused... for that would have allowed her to stay within the cradle of his arms without the unfortunate promise of an end.

It was a perfect suspended animation.

If she had allowed her thoughts to awaken, she would have marveled at the jaw dropping comfort that she felt lying in his embrace. She would have blushed at the stories now imprinted on her bruised lips, and at the memories of his hands… hungry and earnest… ranging over her entire body. She would have had to shake herself with a sober reminder that this was nothing more than a one night stand, halting herself from reading into it any further… despite how much she would have ached to do so.

But there were no deep thoughts for her here. Not in this hazy liminal space between sleep and awake. Instead, she just floated on the soft sensations of her body. His subtle musk drifted over her senses, beckoning her to stay relaxed upon his shoulder. His breath, slow and steady, rocked her like a light lapping wave.

She luxuriated in what it felt like to ghost her hand along the warm skin of his slim waist, his long torso an expansive canvas for her fingers to wander. Mike's breath stuttered at her touch, and with it she became ever so slightly aware. She pulled herself closer into him, her nose falling into the crook of his neck. Then, in a movement that felt so bizarrely natural, she dropped a featherlight kiss right above his collarbone. His chest rumbled with the softest most contented moan. A lazy smile appeared upon El's lips. She repeated the motion with more fervor.

Something within her was waking up in the very best way.

She -

_BBBBRRRRRING_!

El gasped. Mike's whole body flinched in her embrace.

The phone rang one, two, three times.

Mike lurched to the side and clumsily brought the phone to his ear. "Pronto..?" he gruffed, his voice thick with sleep. Then, he tensed like a taut wire, his breath catching in his throat. He stammered a few words of hurried Italian before he slammed the receiver down and darted up in the bed.

"We missed our flight," He choked.

"WHAT!?"

_That_ was the moment that she jolted awake.

El shot up in bed. Breath falling short, her eyes fell upon the clock. 11:09 stared back at her in red digital numbers.

How… how did…

"_Shit_!"

The next five minutes were a whirlwind. Anxious adrenaline surged through her foggy brain as she flung herself out of bed and tugged on the first clothes that she could find. Yesterday's dress. Clunky hiking boots with mismatched socks. Light blue hoodie that couldn't have been more clashing if she'd tried. Mike didn't fare much better. His sweater was rumpled, but not as much as his hair. It was flying every which way, a testament to the work of her hands throughout the night.

But there was no time to think about any of _that_.

El haphazardly repacked her backpack as Mike buckled his belt and fought his shoes onto his feet. Finally, he tugged on his coat and met El at the door, shooting a curt nod for her to lead the way. El did so, hitting the hallway at a run. The sensation of moving so fast felt nauseating on her body that was operating on _maybe_ three hours of sleep, but she tried to push off the feeling until she made it to the lobby.

Darting around her, Mike made a beeline for the concierge when they reached the counter. He spoke in hurried spurts, his hands accentuating his every word. The concierge nodded before he tapped a quick succession of numbers into a phone pad. He held up his finger for Mike to be patient.

Yet... Mike did not seem _capable_ of patience.

His hands went back and forth between drumming on the countertop and turning into fists. His face was contorted into a tight ball of nerves. He seemed…

He seemed _pissed_.

...and of course he was pissed, she realized.

This wasn't his fault.

_It was hers. _

Tension began to fill her from every angle.

_She_ had started it. _She_ had taken their night in a reckless and irresponsible direction. _She_ had refused his talk of falling asleep, brushing off his better judgment in exchange for her own selfish desires.

_She_ was the source of every mistake that had caused them to miss their flight.

El gulped. Visions of him calling a cab just for himself and leaving her behind in the lobby raced through her mind. He could so easily just toss her a casual goodbye and march out the door, leaving her alone with this gargantuan mess that she had created. She didn't actually _know_ him, after all. For him, this might have just been a massive drunken mistake...

The thought stung more than she was willing to admit.

A sense of shame began to eat away at her. She tried to calm her breath. Her eyes dropped away from Mike's tense demeanor and down to her own feet, but that only made her aware of the horribly clashing outfit that she had cobbled together. She attempted to smooth her mussed hair, but it was so ratted in the back that all she could do was pull it up into a messy bun with a hair tie that she found in her hoodie pocket. She -

"There's a cab outside."

Mike's voice was hollow as it cut through her flurry of thoughts. She looked up to find him beside her, his eyes blank as he cocked his head towards the door. She nodded dully, grateful that he was at least willing to offer her a ride to the airport. She followed him through the doorway out onto the cold wet concrete beyond. This cab driver was much more kind than the last, helping each of them with their bags before they crawled into the back seat, through separate doors.

"El."

He spoke the second that the doors shut, catching her off guard.

"Yes?" She nervously turned toward Mike, and was taken aback by his expression.

He did not look angry.

On the contrary, his eyes were practically bleeding with guilt.

"El, I am _so_ sorry."

"What? What are you sorry for?"

"I - " he sighed as he raked his fingers roughly through his hair, "I feel like I've ruined every single part of your trip home. I should've remembered to set an alarm. I just - I didn't think we were going to actually fall asleep. I am _so_ sorry. I just…" he shrugged in a way that looked almost pained, "I keep messing up your trip."

A frenzied laugh escaped her lips, "No! I could've set the alarm, too. I told you I didn't want to go to sleep. _I'm_ sorry."

Mike's eyes narrowed curiously, "You're… you're not mad?"

"_No_," she shook her head quickly, befuddled, "You're not mad at _me_?"

His expression turned incredulous, "Why would I be mad at you?"

"I stopped you from setting an alarm!" she admitted intently, "I - "

At that point the cab driver hopped into the car, breaking their privacy in a way stopped her lips. The taxi driver pulled away from the curb as silence simmered over the back seat once again.

After a short moment, a soft whisper, full of admission, fell upon her ear.

"To be fair… I really didn't want to go to bed, either."

She looked over at him in surprise to find a shy smirk ghosting over his lips. He caught her eye with a knowing glance before he looked away. And with that admission, everything tilted. The tightness in her chest receded with the biggest sense of relief, and in its place the fleeting hint of a different type of simmering tension returned.

"Okay," she said gratefully, before her cheeks heated up and she dropped her voice, her own admission on her lips, "And for what it's worth? I'm pretty glad you messed up the first part of my trip," She tried to hold back a burgeoning smile, "Plus, last night was kind of worth a bit of a mess today."

Mike took a sharp intake of breath. "_I_ thought so," he breathed tentatively, "I just, you know, I didn't want to assume that you agreed."

"If you agree, I agree," she replied, finally finding the courage to hold his gaze.

His shy smile grew, igniting his features. It played on her heart in a dangerous way. Then, in a way that caught her completely off guard, his eyes popped wide. "I think I know how to get them to rebook our flights without charges."

"You have a plan?"

"Well," he leaned back slowly and mulled it over, "The airline _did_ book two strangers into the same hotel room. And despite how, uh, _well_ that worked out, that's still a major error."

"Definitely good leverage. And oh!" she chirped, tapping him on his wrist as she continued, "Maybe say the alarm in the hotel room was broken or something?"

"Oh yeah, good one!" he said, smiling broadly now, "We got this. We'll get you home." He stopped himself abruptly at that and rolled his eyes at himself, "That is, if you still trust me to get you there? I have a horrible track record helping you at this point."

El felt her blush deepen as a bit of tease entered her voice, "I happen to think you've been incredibly helpful so far."

Mike laughed in reply. It was deliciously soft. And then, with a tenderness that had absolutely _no_ place the morning after a one night stand, his hand found hers. Her heart jumped as she felt it slip beneath hers, his fingers slow in their movements as they intertwined between hers. It was such a simple gesture. So pure and innocent. Yet, it brought everything into bright relief.

She almost felt stupid in that moment. Stupid for underestimating him. Stupid for expecting that he would suddenly be the worst version of a man in the harsh light of day.

Mike wasn't like that.

On the contrary, he was _worrying_ about her, despite having no reason to at all. Showing her affection and care only because he... wanted to?

Maybe it would have been better if he _had_ been an asshole. At least then it would have been easy to walk away. As it stood, her fingers tightened around his, and her shoulder slid closer to be near him as they drove. His thumb ran soft trails over the back of her hand as she watched the outskirts of Rome roll by the window. And through it all, her chest expanded with a sense of feeling that was going to hurt to let go.

So naturally, the cab ride felt painfully short. Before she knew it they had pulled up to the airport drop off. With bags in hand and the cab paid for, they made their way inside and Mike, once again, took charge. With a confidence that she hadn't expected, he stalked up to the counter, holding himself at his impressive full height. In the smoothest Italian she had heard from him yet, he laid out their issues to the gate agent.

El couldn't deny it. A _confident_ Mike speaking Italian... was painfully attractive.

While El couldn't figure out exactly what he was saying, she was able to get the gist of it from the expressions on the gate agent's face. At first, the man looked unenthused, but as Mike continued, his voice rising adamantly, the gate agent's eyes went wide and suddenly he was full of apologies. Before she knew it, the man was holding out his hand for both of their passports.

"What's happening?" El whispered to Mike as she handed her papers to the gate agent.

"Oh, he tried to tell me this was our fault but I laid out all the reasons why it's _their_ fault. He's getting us rebooked."

"Thank you so much," El gave him a grateful smile.

Mike beamed at her. "Look, I finally got it right," he said with a self deprecating laugh.

El rolled her eyes, bumping into his arm with her shoulder, but she was interrupted by the agent, who addressed Mike one more time. Mike's expression dropped at the man's words.

"What is it?"

Mike bit back a growl, "They uh- they only have one spot available to Chicago all day. In three hours."

"Oh…" El blanched, "There's nothing else?"

Mike sighed, "He said that if we were traveling together he'd have booked us together tomorrow, but since we're obviously traveling separately he'll have to book us separately."

"Oh…" El replied, trying to keep her face straight, "Umm…"

"You should take it," Mike said suddenly, his words moving fast, "I can stay here. You should get home. Maybe we can get some lunch and then I'll just… I'll get a hotel for another night."

El smiled sadly as the reality of the situation settled on her heart. Their time had dwindled down to almost nothing...

"Thanks, but - " A bittersweet lightbulb went off over her head. She sighed, "What if they have something to Indianapolis. Then we could both get home. You wouldn't be stranded for another night. "

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense." Mike turned and translated her question to the gate agent. Nodding, the agent picked up the phone again. He nodded a few times, speaking quickly into the receiver. After a few moments the gate agent put his hand over the receiver and nodded to El, speaking in slow and heavily accented English.

"There is a flight path to Indianapolis, through New York."

"Okay, yes. I'll - I'll take that."

The gate agent nodded, typing a few keystrokes into a machine, "Boarding is in… twenty minutes. You must go now."

"_What_?!"

She turned to Mike immediately, and saw her own thought reflected in his eyes.

Everything ended right here. Right now. Right at this counter.

_She wasn't ready…_

The printer filled the air with the harsh sounds of her ticket materializing into reality.

"I - " she stammered, not sure what to say.

Mike swallowed hard. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, "Can I see you again?" he asked in a rush, "Maybe in Indiana? Over Christm - "

"Yes." Her reply was immediate.

Before she knew it she had reached over the counter and grabbed a pen from the attendant's desk. Heart suddenly smashing in her chest, she looked around for paper but found nothing. Without another thought, she snatched Mike's hand, pushed up his sleeve, and scrawled "El 463-555-1153", on the side of his wrist.

"Call me," She said, trying and failing to keep the yearning out of her voice, "When you get back?"

"Yeah!" Mike exclaimed, "I mean, yes, absolutely."

El's smile almost hurt with how fast it crashed onto her face.

"Scuzi," the attendant interrupted, waving her new tickets and passport, "You must go now."

"Okay," she replied impatiently, taking the papers from the man's hand. She turned back to Mike, "Thank you. For... for everything. I'll talk to you soon?"

He nodded, and then before she knew what was happening he pulled her into a deep hug. She breathed him in as she fell against his shoulder, trying to grab a single final second of him before this crazy experience came to such an abrupt end.

She found it so bizarrely difficult to let go.

"Scuzi!" the attendant's voice cut through, bringing her crashing back to reality. "Your flight!"

"Okay!" She barked back, pulling away from Mike. She hiked up her backpack as she looked at him one last time. "Bye, Mike."

Mike's expression was hesitant, "Bye, El..."

And with that, she forced herself to spin around and move. In a daze, her feet raced upon the hard tile toward the gates. Everything feeling so hurried, so abrupt, and so supremely unsettled. It felt oddly painful. Too immediate. Too -

"_EL_!"

El stopped and spun around to find Mike skidding to a stop before her. He almost slid into her as his hands reached out to cup her face. She gasped as he kissed her, her back arching to accommodate his height.

_Oh, hell_…

Kissing him while standing…

She almost wished she _didn't_ know how that felt...

_It was too good…_

"I just… I needed to do that," he breathed against her lips, pulling away.

"Call me," she sputtered with a gobsmacked moan, her eyelids heavy and stunned.

"Tomorrow," he replied immediately, "I'll call tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she repeated in a daze. A ray of intensity burst through her as she looked up into his eyes. She relished the deep warmth they held one last time. Her hand skirted down his forearm until she found his hand. She squeezed it and reached up for his lips one last time, dropping a final kiss, quick and light, upon him.

And then somehow… and she could _never_ figure out how… El succeeded in convincing her body to pull away from Mike and run in the opposite direction, her lips still wet with his kiss.

* * *

10am.

Was that too early to call?

Mike paced his kitchen, piece of toast in hand, his eyes glued to the clock. His jet lag was absolutely killing him. Would it be killing her too? Would she even be awake? He didn't know what time she would've gotten home. Had she had a long layover in New York? Had she had enough to eat during the day? Had she had enough money to make a phone call to get a ride home from the airport? Had she made it home okay at all?

He looked down at his arm, his heart pounding in a delirious way. Honestly, it hadn't felt like his heart had stopped this frenzied stutter since he'd parted with her halfway on the other side of the world. Her digits were still scrawled upon his arm, the loopy L of her name trailing over to the other side of his wrist in a way that made him remember exactly how she had grabbed his hand to write it.

Sure, of course he had copied the number onto a piece of paper in his notebook the second he'd had the chance. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to wash the numbers from his skin. They felt like his only proof. The only tangible reminder that El hadn't been a dream.

He needed that reminder, because she certainly had _felt_ like a dream…

10:05am.

Fuck it.

Mike took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. He dialed carefully, pushing each number slowly into the keypad. It rang once, twice, three times... then a click sounded, connecting the call.

"What."

Mike jolted at the voice of a clearly annoyed young man. The clattering tune of Mario theme music from a video game jangled in the background.

"Hi," Mike said with an unexpectant stutter, "Is um… is El there?"

"Wrong number."

And just like that, the call cut off.

Mike blinked in surprise. In a moment he regathered his wits and reset the receiver, lifting it back up to try again. He entered the numbers more carefully this time, double checking each number as he pushed it into the pad.

This time the call picked up on the first ring.

"What do you want?"

Mike cringed as the voice of the very same guy cut into his ear, "Hey. Sorry, but you're sure there's no El at this number?"

"Don't know what to tell you man. Seems like some bitch gave you bogus digits."

Once again, the phone clicked and a dial tone signaled the end of the call.

Mike froze, his jaw dropping.

His anger flared at the guys choice of words, but he tried to shake it off in pursuit of the larger issue at hand. She wouldn't have given him a fake number… right? He tried to replay the moment in his mind. The way she had cut him off to say yes when he'd put his ego on the line and had asked to see her again. Her face had simply lit up in a way that had made his heart purr. She had all but lunged over the counter for a pen, and she'd eagerly pushed up his sleeve to write her digits upon his skin. The intensity in her voice when she'd asked him to call... Her eyes had been starry… and so very reassuring…

No… there was no way.

After that sigh of relief Mike looked back down at his arm, trying to find another way. He studied each number. Had he read any of them incorrectly?

Taking a seat at the table, he tried out the alternatives. First, he traded the 5's for 3's. She wrote with a loop, so maybe those were the culprit? That theory struck out, though he was greeted by a much kinder person on the other end of that line. The elderly woman who answered had never heard of an El. She wished him luck in a sweet croaky voice. He continued on.

Next, he tried 7's instead of 1's. That attempt took him to the answering machine for a men's barbershop…

He attempted a few more combinations, his nerves getting tighter with each attempt, but each one of them led to another dead end.

Finally, his face stubbornly set, Mike picked up the phone and put the original numbers in one more time.

"Dude! I told you! There's -"

"Hold on!" Mike interrupted the punk, "This is the number she gave me. She wouldn't have given me a fake on purpose."

"You sure about that?" the guy challenged.

Mike rolled his eyes. Hard. "Yes. You're sure you don't know anyone named El?"

The guy scoffed, "Dude, it's not her number anymore, leave me the fuck alone."

Click.

Heart surging, Mike didn't even hesitate as he redialed.

"Fuck off! I - "

"_Anymore_?!" Mike bellowed, cutting over the guy's protestations, "You're saying this used to be her number?"

"Fuck if I know! Listen, you're not the first person to call for some chick named El, but -"

"How long have you had this number?" Mike demanded.

"I don't know… a couple months?"

Mike breathed a sigh of relief, "I bet this is her old number. Listen, if I gave you my number could you pass it along if she calls?"

"I'm not your fucking answering machine," the guy griped, "Now _Stop_. _Fucking_. _Calling_."

Click.

Mike growled as a fresh wave of frustration threatened to barrel him over. He took a deep breath and replaced the phone on its base. A corner of his mind relished in the sudden dream of barging into that asshole's house, ripping his video game controller from his hand, and clocking him in the face with it.

He struggled to pull his attention back to the issue at hand…

At least the problem now seemed clear: El had given him her old number, hopefully by mistake. It would make sense, if he'd understood her story correctly. She'd mentioned something about her dad moving while she'd been in Europe.

No big deal, this was probably an easy fix. Just a quick call to the operator and he'd have all of the information he needed. He didn't even think twice as he pressed zero on the phone. A friendly female voice popped up on the other side.

"Operator. How may I help you?"

"Hi, I need to find someone's new phone number?"

"Do you have their name and original number?"

"Yeah," he looked down at his arm, "463-555-1111. El."

"Last name?"

"..."

"Last name?" The operator repeated.

Mike's jaw had dropped. He willed something to come out, but his tongue came up horrifyingly empty.

"I… I don't know…"

The woman hummed in understanding and began typing keys. "I apologize, sir, but the previous owner of this number was listed as private. Forwarding information is not available for private listings."

Something cold began to radiate through Mike's body. "Um… can you… can you tell me the last name, at least?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but as I said, this is a private listing."

"Shit," his breath started to go heavy, "Is there… do you know any other way to find this out? Please? It's important."

"As it's a private listing, there would be no way to find out this information other than directly from the owner of the number. Is there anything else I can - "

The woman's voice disappeared mid-sentence as Mike dropped the phone with a heavy thud.

He blinked in stillness as the truth set in.

He had no idea how to reach her…

_He didn't even know her full name_…

Mike's stomach filled with dread. Why hadn't he given her _his_ number? Why hadn't he taken ten extra seconds to make sure that she had a way to find him, too? And _why_, over the course of an _entire_ night, hadn't he asked for her_ full name_?! It was such an obvious question! It was something any normal person would have asked! Especially if they were going to sleep with that person!

What the hell had he been thinking?!

Oh right, he _hadn't_ been thinking.

He'd been so overwhelmed at every turn, unbelieving of his luck and absolutely sure that he would eventually fuck it up. And look at that! He _had_ absolutely fucked it up. Big Time.

Mike's brain began to scramble, hoping against hope that clues to her full name lived inside of his memory. He swore that he'd seen or heard her full name once or twice while they'd been dealing with arrangements at the many counters they'd been at during those fleeting hours. Her passport had even been in his hand at one point! He had been so close… It had all been so fast, though. It hadn't seemed to stick. If he thought incredibly hard he vaguely recollected an H somewhere in her name? Harlow? Hanley? Harbour?

None of it felt right…

As the days passed one would have expected that maybe he'd come to his senses. But not Mike. His mind ran endlessly with the memory of her, growing more like a fable each day, and he began to pull at threads.

Once he called the records office at Indiana University, asking for an El who had graduated that year with a social work degree. A dead end. Confidentiality got in his way yet again.

On another day, feeling like an absolute crazy person, he phoned the Indianapolis Police Department where he was sure her father had at least once worked. He was not surprised to be turned away from that attempt, but nonetheless he checked that lead off of his list.

And a week later, unable to shake his need, he spent an entire day at the Chicago Public Library. He combed through the wedding announcements in the Indianapolis Stars from the summer and fall, but he found no wedding announcements that mentioned a daughter/step-daughter named El.

It was only that night that the hard truth finally settled in his stomach.

He had no idea how to find her. In fact, the more he looked, the more it felt like she had never existed at all.

A jarring and bizarre sense of loss washed over him. He couldn't shake it, no matter how much his rational mind tried. It had only been one night, but there was a panic within him akin to losing something treasured. Something precious. Something that he'd so had so desperately wanted to hold onto. For a fleeting moment, as she'd scrawled those numbers on his arm, he'd convinced himself that maybe he would have the chance to do just that. To see her again, once, twice, a million times if he was lucky.

There was just… something about her. The tone of her laugh. The kind acceptance in her gaze. The tenacious independence she seemed to exude. The softness of her skin as she removed her dress and his hand slipped across the small of their back, her lips on his. He couldn't remember anyone ever _kissing_ him like that. With such abandon. With such need. It had almost been dangerous how fast his heart had swung open at her kiss.

He couldn't shake it. She had felt so oddly… perfect.

Maybe that was it, he thought in dark dissent as he tried yet again to brush it off. Maybe he had gotten such a small taste of her that he'd been able to _construct_ this sense of perfection. A perfectly gorgeous alternate reality. A space where she could fit like a puzzle piece, suspended outside of the actual comings and goings of his life.

An escape. From his dead end semester and his absolutely empty slate of a future. From hard conversations and even harder decisions.

Yet, he couldn't deny... something in his heart tugged deeper than that.

What more could he do about it, though? He'd made _himself_ uncomfortable with his own level of searching. He felt like he was beginning to verge into the territory of a stalker. He couldn't think of anything else he could do.

And even if he _had_ been able to reach her, what would he have done?! Traveled halfway across Indiana for a coffee date two days after Christmas, only to see her once more, and then never again?

But _God_, what he wouldn't give for that one time…

As had happened so many times in the last week, his thoughts led him back to the phone. The numbers on his arm had long since faded, but it was no worry. He had committed the number to memory at this point. He'd called it over the intervening week more times that he would have liked to admit. With a sense of dejection he the tapped in the offending number one last time.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Until the harsh click of a tape began.

"What's up. Leave a message, maybe I'll hear it. And to the dude who won't stop calling. El doesn't live here so hang up and leave me the hell alone, you loser."

Mike groaned. He returned the phone to the receiver.

Honestly? The asshole who had El's old number now? He was kind of right.

Mike was a _massive_ loser.

He dropped his head to the kitchen table as a rush of shame overcame him. He barely heard the door when it opened behind him.

"Oh, hey!"

Mike straightened up as Will's voice called through the house. He worked to right his expression as Will shook the snow out of the boots by the door.

"I've hardly seen you since you got home. How've you been?"

"Oh, yeah. Jet lag, sleeping, you know," Mike lied, too ashamed to tell the truth, "How've you been?"

Will shrugged as he dropped his bag on the table, "Well, you know, work never stops. It's… ten days in a row this time? I'm exhausted. But hey, vacation starts right now! I've got a full week off." Will slipped heavily into the chair opposite Mike, "So, hey. I know we weren't planning on heading home until the day after tomorrow, but there's a storm coming in tomorrow night. Do you mind leaving tomorrow afternoon so we can try to beat it?"

Mike tried to stop his expression from turning sour. Heading home to Hawkins for Christmas? It felt like a small death. He had too many hard conversations coming up there. Terrible grades and the unceremonious end of school. The future of his finances, now that he was certain that his parents would cut him off. The truth was, if he could choose? He would never go home at all.

But he knew… it needed to happen.

"Yeah, that's fine," Mike's voice was quiet, "I'll pack in the morning."

Will looked up, and in that moment Mike knew that Will had read his voice, "You okay?"

Something in Mike's chest tugged. Will was his best friend, after all. He would understand. He was safe to talk about it. But... it all felt so exhausting. Hopeless. He just couldn't bring himself to speak about it. It was just a little too embarrassing, being this broken up over a girl whom he'd known for only one day...

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mike said, forcing a smile.

It wasn't like Will could help, anyway...

* * *

_If only Mike knew... Next chapter coming soon! _


	5. Chapter 5

Hi my lovely readers. I hope you are all holding up alright. No matter where you are, chances are that we are all in a similar situation right now, and many of us very well might be for the coming weeks. I just wanted to let you all know that I'm planning on using some of my self-isolation time to finish both this fic and The Jump. So look out for more consistent updates from me over the next month or two.

I've broken this section up into two chapters so that I can get you content more quickly. So, enjoy part one of the next stage of our story. The second half is well on its way to being ready for you. Hopefully within a week.

* * *

El closed the door to the bedroom that she was staying in and stepped into the hallway. Wood paneled walls surrounded her, dimly lit with winter light from the window placed at the end of the hall. She hoisted her full backpack onto one shoulder and made her way toward the kitchen. Sitting at the table, a coffee cup and newspaper in front of her, she found the woman whom she was seeking.

"Joyce?"

The small woman jumped at El's voice. She looked up, her eyes wide, yet kind.

"Oh! Hi Jane, Sorry. I didn't hear you coming."

"It's okay. Um, I need to go to the library. Do you mind if I borrow your car?"

Joyce nodded immediately, but a quick crease appeared between her eyebrows.

"Of course, I just - Let me find my keys..."

Joyce patted her pockets, coming up empty. She stood up and did a quick sweep of the kitchen before making her way into the living room. Minutes began to pass as Joyce let out tiny grumbles and sighs, shaking out coats and rummaging through couch cushions. She had no luck.

"Do you want some help?"

"No dear, I'll find them! Sorry if I'm holding you up! They're just - where_ are_ they?!" She shrugged with an animated fluster and got back to her search.

Over the past five days it had become clear to El that this was exactly the type of woman that Joyce was. A little high strung. Always a tiny bit on edge. Yet, kind beyond belief.

Thoughtful.

She had been absolutely lovely to El ever since El's arrival back from Europe five days back. She'd kept the house quiet during odd hours of the day when El had been sleeping off her jet lag, and she'd made sure that a full meal was always waiting in the refrigerator. It was a blessing when El would wake up hungry in the middle of the night during those first few days.

El could not believe how lucky her Dad had gotten in finding Joyce. Let alone, in finding Joyce for a _second _time. El smiled every time she thought about it. It was so adorably romantic to think that fate, or something like that, had reunited them. After all this time.

If only she could be so lucky…

El's eyes traced across the telephone that was mounted on the wall. It remained just as it had the entire week: Silent. Unringing. Still.

She swallowed roughly and wrenched her eyes away.

Her gaze landed instead on a wall of photographs to her right. Most of the photos featured Joyce's two sons, Jonathan and Will, when they were little. Jonathan batting at a t-ball game. Will with a science trophy, surrounded by three other excited boys. Beside them was a much newer picture. A quick candid from just two months back. Joyce, beaming in a modest white dress, and her Dad, actually smiling for once in his life.

"I'm going to check my bedroom," Joyce called, catching El's attention as she passed, "I'm sure they'll be in there."

El watched as Joyce turned into the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

It was a nice enough house. Warm. Welcoming. It made sense that her Dad would have wanted to move in when they had gotten married. In fact, it seemed like a no brainer. Joyce had an empty three bedroom house, after all. And with her kids grown and gone? It just made sense.

It was good for her Dad, too. He'd surely needed a change of scenery. Jim Hopper had holed himself up in the same shoddy 2-bedroom rental for as long as El had been in his life. He'd had no attachment to the place, and no plans for the future. This house was a _lot _better.

Yet, the fact that her Dad had willingly moved back to _Hawkins_?

That simply blew El's mind.

He _hated_ Hawkins, and he'd never been quiet about it. All through El's teen years her Dad had talked about his hometown with the utmost disdain. He would only visit the town a few times a year. Just long enough to share a quick cup of coffee with his elderly Aunt. Then, he would get the hell out of town as quickly as he could.

It had been on one of those trips, however, when everything had changed. It had changed with nothing more than a simple run in on the street. Totally unexpected and entirely unplanned. With a long lost highschool sweetheart.

He'd been mum about the development at first, keeping it to himself while El had been away in college. Yet, during Fall Break of senior year El noticed... changes. He was calmer. He was drinking less. He was taking phone calls every night after dinner. And after those calls he would always be smiling…

It was adorable. Absolutely frickin' adorable. Her Dad was_ in love_! Again! With his_ first_ love!

So, to everyone's surprise, Jim Hopper had followed his heart back to Hawkins. By that spring, plans for a late September wedding were underway. By fall he had gotten the job as the Chief of Police in Hawkins, sealing his fate. He took El to the Indianapolis airport for her trip three days before he moved into Joyce's house.

El had left home when it was Indianapolis. Now, she had now arrived 'home' in Hawkins. She could finally experience this place for herself. And the verdict? Her Dad had been right: This town left a little to be desired. Well, that was an understatement.

Hawkins _sucked_.

El hadn't been prepared for it. Not at all. She hadn't been prepared for how remote it would feel, especially in this house on the outskirts of town. She didn't know how cold the wind could be in the middle of nowhere. Barren and empty. Stranded and isolated. Far away from everything. Far away from her travels in Europe. Far away from her future plans. Far away from friends. Far away from…

...El's gaze fell upon the phone cord. It was kinked beyond repair. Before she knew it she had taken it between her fingers, pulling on its coils with an agitated tug. The cord somehow showed intense signs of wear.

Yet she could _not_ figure out how.

It wasn't like this phone ever rang.

No one called.

No friends. No family.

Not -

"Found them!"

El dropped the cord immediately and jerked her attention toward Joyce. The woman was trotting down the hall, jangling her keys in the air. "I'm so sorry. I swear, I lose them every day and I never learn."

"It's fine," El took the keys from her new stepmom's fingers, forcing a smile. "Thanks for looking. Do you need anything while I'm out?"

"No, we're all set. But thank you, Jane."

El smiled a little more naturally and shook her head, "You know, you can call me El if you want."

"Really?" Joyce's eyes widened as though she had just received a gift, "I - I wasn't sure. I knew that's what your friends called you. But," she shrugged sheepishly, "I didn't want to assume."

"Yeah, please call me El. I don't even know why Dad introduces me as Jane, he hardly ever calls me that."

"Well, I knew I probably shouldn't start calling you 'Kid', like he does," Joyce said with a wry smile. "But okay. El," Joyce said the name slowly, as though she was trying it out on her tongue. "I have to work at 3:00, so if you can be back by 2:45 that would be great?"

"Sure. And thank you again."

"Anytime." And with that, Joyce smiled and waved before turning back into the kitchen.

El adjusted her backpack and took one step toward the front door… when the phone rang.

El didn't miss a beat. Lunging toward the phone, she snatched the receiver and slammed it to her ear. "Hello?" she yelped with a heart smashing surge.

"Hello, may I speak to Joyce Byers?"

"Oh."

El bit her lip to keep a straight face. She held out the receiver to her stepmom. "It's for you."

"Thanks, El."

The receiver left her hand, leaving it cold. Empty.

Joyce's voice filled the house as El forced her feet to walk out of the front door. The outside greeted her with an icy gust, blistering against her face. She groaned and huddled against the cold as she trudged through the hard packed snow toward the car. Her fingers were already shaking from chill when she scrambled inside and turned the ignition.

The radio blared as the engine struck.

_"Then you came to me and my loneliness left me..."_

El made a sour face and slammed the car into reverse.

_"I used to think I was tied to a heartache_

_That was the heartbreak, but now that I've found you_

_Even the nights are better_

_Now that we're here together_

_Even the nights are better_

_Since I found you!" _

"OH, **COME ON**!" El flicked off the radio with so much force that she almost broke off the knob.

"Air Supply?! I'm getting sad to _AIR SUPPLY_?! I am _so. fucking. _**_pathetic_**_!_" Jerking the wheel, she turned onto the road and locked her eyes to the road. She worked to control her breath, but the simmering in her chest would not allow itself to be ignored. Her hand slammed against the steering wheel as her voice rose, talking to no one but herself. **"No.** Not today. You don't have time for this. You have a life to plan!" A stray cat darted into the street. El yelped and slammed the brakes, just barely stopping in time. "And you have to get out of this _stupid_ fucking town!"

She did not have time for this ache in her chest.

She did_ not_ have time for the buzzing want that was continuing to highjack her brain.

She did _not. have. time._ for _stupid boys._ _who_** _chose_** **_not to call! _**

...Even if they'd promised they would.

...Even if they'd seemed so excited when she'd given them her number.

...Even when they'd chased her through the airport to give her such a knee melting kiss that she _still _hadn't recovered.

No.

Today was going to be different. It wasn't going to be like the day before, or the day before that. Today, she wasn't going to stare at the phone and make a total ass out of herself, asking Joyce every hour on the hour if anyone had called. Today she was going to focus on her own life. On her future. On getting out of this hellhole town before it sucked her in and forced her to stay.

Old ice crunched beneath her as she steered into a parking space in front of the library. She cut the engine and stepped out, slamming the door to the car a little too hard. She pulled roughly on her coat and stalked up the stone steps of Hawkins Public Library.

The relief that she felt when she stepped inside was immense.

This library was particularly quiet. She could make out the distinct hum of the radiator, and it's intermittent knocks. The sound of her decrepit hiking boots was loud against the wooden floors of the entryway. A crinkle of paper cut through the air as an old man turned the page of his newspaper in the far corner of the room.

It was so quiet that she could actually hear past her own thoughts.

Which was good. Because she had work to do.

She took a deep breath and made a beeline for a small bank of computers that were lined up against the far wall. She took a seat at an open station and unpacked her bag with diligent purpose. A box of A4 envelopes. Her favorite pen. The employment directory that her department had given her during her last semester in college. A book of stamps. A single floppy disk.

She arranged it all in front of her, and then picked up the directory. It's spine was unbroken. She regarded it's pristine quality with a hint of regret. Her friends had jumped right into their directories during their last semester of school. Each of them had sent off a slew of resumes. One by one they had found work at agencies around the country directly out of college.

They were all six months into their careers.

El couldn't shake the sensation that maybe she should have done that, too.

Maybe she shouldn't have run off to Europe, seeking adventure instead of stability. Would anyone want to hire a girl who ran away to Europe instead of doing the responsible thing of starting her career? Would there even be any jobs available?

There was only one way to find out.

El felt a pang of nerves as she broke the seam and pressed open the booklet. She rifled past the sparse table of contents and got to the meat of the text: an alphabetical listing of contacts within social service agencies around the region. She skimmed the list, circling potential fits as she went.

Akron Social Services

Camden County Child Support

DCFS - Chicago Branch

Her pen stopped. And in an instant her mind dashed right out of the door of the Hawkins Public Library...

...To snowy streets, bundled up in the bitter chill as wind blew off of the lake, her body huddled into his as they drank hot chocolate in the early sunset. His arm wrapped around her shoulder. His nose red from the cold. His eyes dancing with such warmth that she almost forgot that it was cold at all. Icy kisses mixing with the heat of his breath, warming her as he smiled against her lips...

...It was a beautiful fiction.

"Ugh." El dropped her head into her hands.

God, she _hated_ herself for caring so much, for giving this guy so much space in her mind. It simply _did not make sense,_ though! Why would he treat her like that? Like everything was so special? Only to disappear? Only to never call?

She couldn't forget how dark his eyes were. How easy it was to fall into his gaze, easier and easier until she had simply stopped trying to catch herself. She couldn't shake what it felt like to kiss him when her body had refused to stop leaning in. She couldn't forget the touch of his hands, ranging over her body with electric reverence, slow and careful, but needy at the same time, pulling her in with an intensity that felt like it was still imprinted on her skin.

She couldn't forget how easy it felt to be in his presence.

His smile, simple and humble. His bashful laugh. And he was smart! Funny and creative and such a damned gentleman that her heart still swooped at the thought. Honestly, at this point she'd almost wished he'd been less so. Then, at least she could have chalked the experience up up as good sex and nothing more. Just a great story to tell girlfriends over drinks. But no, on top of great sex and being so incredibly cute… he'd had to be _great_. He'd had to make her feel like she was worth talking to. He'd had to hold her all night in the softest way, making her want to do anything that she could think of to find her way back into his embrace.

He'd made this hard by being lovely in every way.

Or, at least seeming that way.

El swiped her arm to knock the directory out of her way. She grabbed her floppy disk and inserted it roughly into the drive. Slamming her finger on the screen button, she booted up the computer. It booted up much too slowly. She tried to keep her attention on the script filling the screen, but it was no use.

_….God, the way he'd kissed her goodbye!... She could still taste it. She could still feel it in her knees…_

The computer start-up completed, and the home screen greeted her. Fingers tight on the mouse, she clicked where her disk appeared and navigated to her cover letter document in the enclosed folder.

Words she had typed nine months earlier filled the screen. It was nothing more than a form letter, customized with a high level description of her background and a persuasive statement about her qualifications. It was fully formatted. An A+ assignment that was actually useful in the real world. Ready to print, sign and mail to prospective employers with no extra work.

She thanked herself for the hard work she'd put into it those many months ago, because she clearly didn't have any focus to work on it now.

_Why hadn't he called? _

She trained her eyes on the text, attempting to give it a final look over.

_Why would he do that? _

Focus, **dammit**.

_If - _

"Just read one line," she whispered to herself roughly.

Jane Eleanor Hopper

1321 Harrison Street

Indianapolis, IN 46077

463-555-1111

Good, something to fix. Indianapolis was no longer 'home.' Grateful for the distraction, El moved the mouse to update the address. She highlighted the text block below her name…

...and abruptly stopped one digit from the end of her old phone number.

Her hand began to shake.

Time seemed to slip back, depositing her far away, on another continent, a week in the past… She could feel the pen in her hand again. Her brain had been so addled from sleep deprivation. She'd felt foggy. Hardly aware of anything, really, but for his wrist cupped within her hand, for she hadn't wanted to let it go. His skin had been warm and pale in her grasp as she'd struck the number onto this skin with blue pen, finishing it off with four identical lines.

1 - 1 - 1 - 1

She could see it now, staring back at her with a taunting truth.

_She had given him her old number. _

Her stomach plummeted, heavy and leaden, as her breath stopped.

_..._What had she been thinking…

She _hadn't _been thinking! She'd been punch drunk! Sleep deprived! Her lips and her mind had been numb from hours at that point! Time had stopped. The world had stopped. The truth of her current residence hadn't existed in the scope of her reality!

She had scrawled her **_old _**number!? Then she'd run away?! Completely unaware that she had left him with a dead end?! He actually might have called that number! He might have thought she had blown him off! He might have thought she'd left him in Italy with no interest of ever seeing him again!

...If the number didn't belong to her anymore... then it had to belong to someone else, now. Right?

The loud gasp that fell from her lips caught the attention of everyone else in the room. She didn't hear it.

In an instant, her fingers flew across the keyboard. She updated her cover letter with the new Hawkins information, and then she did the same with her separate resume document. Smashing her finger on the print button, she bounded up and ejected her disk. She stuffed her materials back into her bag, grabbed her printouts, rushed from the library, and jumped into the car at full speed.

The drive back to Joyce's felt like an eternity, despite the fact that the town was ridiculously small. Heart jumping, she skidded around a corner, trying her best to make it back to the house by memory. Yet, the labyrinthine suburban streets confused her. She found herself lost in a cul-de-sac on the nice side of town. She screeched her tires and spun around in a driveway, almost hitting a mailbox that said 'Wheeler' as she did so.

She hardly cared. She didn't have time for this.

With twists and turns, she finally approached the familiar grove of trees that lined the long gravel driveway to her Dad's new home.

"You're back fast," Joyce said in surprise as El marched through the door. She gave Joyce a cursory wave and tried to play it cool, but she wasn't sure how well she did. She tried to slow her feet, but she still sprinted to the phone. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the phone number that had been hers ever since she'd been ten years old.

_Ring_

It could have been permanently disconnected...

_Ring_

There could be no one on the other side...

_Ring_

_He_ could have been feeling just the same as_ her_...

A male voice clicked on the line.

"What's up. Leave a message, maybe I'll hear it. And to the dude who won't stop calling. El doesn't live here. So hang up and leave me the hell alone, you loser."

El gasped. The answering machine beeped loud in her ear.

"H-hi!," her heart fluttered in a dizzying surge, "This is El! You have my old number. I mean, your number used to be my number. Please, if anyone calls, can you give them my new number? It's important. I'm at 353-729-1928. It's _really_ important. Thank you!"

She tried to hang up but her shaky hands missed the base twice. She hardly noticed. Her mind was very very far away. And her heart? It was beating faster than she could have imagined. Because that... that _loser_? He probably meant…

Mike.

El fell against the wall. A smile crashed over her face as her eyes slipped shut.

"Are you okay?"

El gasped, her eyes popping over to find Joyce's curious attention upon her. "Oh, yeah! Sorry. Just um… calling for a job thing. Joyce?"

"Yes?"

"If I got my job applications ready before you left, could you mail them when you go to work?"

Joyce waved her hand in an easy yes, "Oh sure, of course. I'll drop them off at the post office so they go out tonight."

"Thank you," El said, her cheeks beginning to hurt from her smile.

She moved to the kitchen table, dropped her bag, and fished out the things she'd planned on using at the library. Focus renewed, she began to stuff envelopes with the updated materials that she'd printed. One by one she applied her signature, tri-folded them carefully like she'd been taught in school, and set them in a short stack. She pulled out her directory booklet and held it open with her elbow, searching the list for the agencies that she wanted to apply to. She did her best to keep her handwriting tidy as she filled out each address, but it was hard not to write too quickly.

When everything was finally ready, she brought the stack to Joyce. Ten envelopes left her hands and went into Joyce's purse.

An application to "DCFS - Chicago Branch" sat right on the top.

* * *

Was it stupid to think that Mike would call again, a week later, after being told by some random guy that it wasn't her number?

By the time two days had passed, El thought she had her answer.

And the truth of it was starting to sink in.

That hadn't stopped her from camping in front of the phone, though. Though, now it was an easier lie. Calls for job interviews could have started coming in at any minute, and those would also have also been very welcome. But if she was honest with herself, that wasn't why she wouldn't leave the wall near the kitchen.

Which was the exact location where El found herself the evening before Christmas Eve.

Joyce had made a surprisingly good meatloaf. The woman was now snuggled up with her Dad on the couch in the living room, watching a rerun of Cheers as a snowstorm started to roll in. It had taken some coaxing, but El had succeeded in kicking her out of the kitchen, demanding that she let El clean up after dinner.

Focusing on manual labor was one of the only things that was working to occupy her mind.

Hot suds bubbled as she scrubbed the baking pans. It was nice to clean something. To wash it off. To make it new. To watch the control she had over spots and grime. A tiny control in this big vast world, sure. But it was something.

It was during a bout of hard incessant scrubbing that the phone rang.

With a gasp, El darted across the room. She grabbed the phone with wet hands.

"Hello?"

"Is this El?"

The voice was male.

"Yes?" she breathed, her heart leaping.

A harsh scoff cut through the receiver. "You left your number on my answering machine."

"Oh!" El yelped, "Hi. Yes! You have my old number."

"Believe me," the guy said, his voice flat, "I'm aware."

Something in his tone caught El off guard, but she tried to continue along. "Have people been calling for me? Because I'd really appreciate it if you could pass along my new number."

The guy sighed, slow and uncomfortably audible, "You know, that's a big favor you're asking of me. How much is it worth to you?"

El's jaw fell agape. "E-excuse me?"

"It seems really important to you," he said, with infuriating dismissal, "How important is it to you? Fifty bucks important?"

She couldn't speak for a moment. Her heavy heartbeat took a dark, sinister turn. "I-I don't have fifty bucks. Can't you just pass it along? Please?"

The guy scoffed again, "You're asking me to do free work here, El. You've gotta make it worth my time. Especially after you've already wasted so much of it. Some sad sack guy called me nonstop for three days. Do you know how fucking annoying that is?"

El took in a sharp breath. "I'm… sorry?"

"You should be," he said starkly, "So, if you don't have money to offer me, how are you gonna make this worth my time?"

El's stomach turned into a shock of lead. Her face flushed. Words would not form in her mouth.

"Do you still live in Indy, El?"

"...I - "

"It's pretty easy. Just come over, give me 50 bucks of your time, and I'll pass your number on."

El froze for a second, hands trembling. Then, she slammed the phone down so hard that the bell inside the base chimed. She stared at the phone in disbelief. Her blood was boiling, hot and shamed. She gritted her teeth and tore her eyes away, rushing out of the kitchen and down the hall. She bolted inside of the dark bedroom and shut the door behind her, falling onto the bed.

How could someone _act _like that? So disgusting and thoughtless! It made her stomach roil with embarrassment, shame… and loss. This person - he was standing in the way.

And there was nothing that she could do.

But then again, _he was right_.

This was her fault.

El buried her face into her pillow as her first tear fell. After one tear came two. Shortly after that, she lost count. She felt stupid for how much it hurt. The pain felt too big to match what had just been a single nineteen hour experience in her life.

It was simple, though, if she really thought about it.

She'd just wanted to get to know Mike better.

Something about him had just felt… right.

Her tears sprang harder as fresh guilt washed over her mind. Mike had called multiple times for three days?! He had called so many times that he had pissed off that asshole that bad?!

Mike definitely thought that she had blown him off.

It broke her heart.

Even if she never saw him again, she wished she could just let him know that she'd _wanted_ to see him again. That she had wanted him to call.

Yet, it was a veil that she could not cross.

...Maybe it was worth it to meet up with the guy. If it meant she could contact Mike…

_Ew. _**_No. _**

She wasn't going to lower herself to whatever revolting thing that asshole was proposing, just on the off chance that Mike would call him again. Even if she went through with it, and if Mike did call again… she knew that she couldn't trust the guy to follow through on his part of the bargain.

He was trash. Pure utter trash.

It wasn't an option.

Which meant there were no options left.

Sadness rippled over her in a heavy band, tying her to her bed in the dark room, immobilizing her limbs. Her tears began to slow, and before she knew it she found herself staring blankly out the dark window. White had begun to streak across the glass, creating tiny clumps of snow in the sills as a new storm rolled in. The old glass rattled in the windowsill, drafty and thin. El crawled beneath her covers in reply. Her vision went fuzzy as she laid there, staring numbly at the storm for so long that she lost track of time. Off in the distance she heard the sounds of Joyce and Hopper getting ready for bed, and shutting the house down for the night until it was deadly silent.

With no distractions, she could hear reality beginning to speak in her mind.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would put these feelings to rest. She would kill the stubborn beating of her heart and move on. Forward into her future, placing him in place only as her best memory of Europe, and nothing more.

But tonight? Tonight she found her mind holding onto him just a little bit longer.

With a deep breath, El tugged a pillow into her chest. She laid her forehead against the cold cotton and let her eyes drop shut. It was an imaginary comfort, but with a stretch of her mind she could imagine him. How his voice rumbled in his chest as she laid upon his shoulder. The way his fingers had ghosted against the bare skin of her back. His full lips on hers, matching her intense need in a way that was almost too easy to remember.

She'd feel stupid for this in the morning. The cold light of day would lay bare the fact that he was out of her grasp.

But for tonight, she could dream, and will him into existence, just until the sun rose.

* * *

"I don't know if this was a good idea."

"Yeah…" Mike murmured, his eyes peeled upon the road, "Maybe not."

"Maybe not" was an understatement.

Will had been called into work last-minute to cover a lunch shift, and what resulted was a four hour delay to their trip. It seemed like it had been a very important four hours, too, for now it was pitch dark and blinding white at the same time.

Mike's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He crawled down the highway, his headlights only cutting through the snow to about ten feet in front of him. Snow streaked his vision, dizzying his perception. It danced in a frenzy as it was caught in his headlights, swirling and blowing like an otherworldly plane.

But it wasn't otherworldly, not at all.

It was Indiana.

In fact, it was Indiana right at that exact moment.

The sign was faint in the storm, yet he could still make its familiar presence out on the side of the road. The large 'Welcome to Indiana' was just visible in a swipe of his headlights.

The greeting felt cold.

There was nothing for him here. He didn't really want Christmas this year. Or rather, he didn't want to face his parents. He didn't want to look them in the eye, or tell them the truth, or deal with the fallout that was sure to come.

Indiana held nothing for him this Christmas.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

It did hold one thing.

El.

But she was a needle in a haystack. There would be no way he could cross her path, even if he'd tried.

Especially not if he was going to be stuck in _Hawkins_ the entire time.

* * *

El Hopper needs a hug. And honestly, so does Mike. Don't worry, I think they might both get one very very soon. ;)

Chat with me in the comments! Or on Tumblr el-borealis! Or on Instagram el_borealis!

Next chapter is cooking and coming real soon.


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you think we should pull over? This is getting really bad."

Mike kept his eyes on the road. He didn't need to look over to know the expression that his oldest friend had upon his face. Nerves were simply dripping from Will's words.

To be honest, it was surprising how well Will had handled the first few hours of the drive. This type of situation was not exactly his cup of tea, after all. He'd been quiet for the first couple of hours, losing himself in a mixtape. The Magnetic Fields, The Breeders and The Smiths had created a sense of normalcy within the confines of the car as Mike had traversed the seemingly endless winter storm.

However, once the final song had given way to silence, the reality of their situation seemed to have been laid bare. Now, the center console did nothing more than flash the time: 2:14 AM.

Mike fought off a yawn and tapped his foot softly on the brake, taking a curve that he could hardly see with delicate precision. "Listen, I know this is bad, but I don't know where we'd go if we pulled off the road. We'll freeze if we just stop and park. Plus, I think we're getting close."

"Do you know where we are? Have you seen any signs?"

"We turned onto 26 a while back, so it's not far. I just don't know how long it'll take at this speed."

"Oh good, I must have missed the turn." Will yawned, stretching his arms up to release some tension, "I'm so sorry I made us late. I just felt like I needed the money. Feels stupid now."

"It's fine. We're going to get there. Just gotta keep taking it slow."

"Yeah," Will sighed, tight and disconcerted, "Maybe we should've listened to my mom and waited. Hell, that's what she thinks we're doing."

Mike's eyes slipped over to Will in surprise. "You didn't tell her we were coming tonight?"

Will scoffed, "Of course not. Come on. You know how worried she'd be if she knew we were driving in this."

"That's fair."

"Did you tell your parents?"

"Well, no," Mike admitted, "But that's just because I don't want to go home."

Will snorted in amusement. "You're that excited to see them, huh?"

Mike shrugged, "I don't know, I'm just not in the holiday spirit, I guess."

Will was quiet for a moment, but Mike could feel his eyes on him. A familiar sensation began to prickle on his skin, and Mike suspected with a flash of dread that while he really wished that he would just restart the mixtape, Will had other thoughts in mind.

"Did something happen?" Will asked, his tone direct and perceptive.

"What do you mean?" Mike mumbled, his eyes glued to the road.

"I don't know, you've been… weird. Since you got back."

Mike chuckled, but the sound fell flat, "Weird? How would you know? I've hardly seen you."

"Yeah, I know. But… You're sure everything is okay?"

Mike swallowed hard, but words began to crawl desperately up this throat despite his urge to keep them down. "I just have some things I don't really want to talk to my parents about."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Mike cringed. More words tumbled out, and these tasted bad... "like how I almost flunked the program in Italy."

Will's seat creaked as he wrenched around toward Mike, "Wait, really? Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I didn't want to talk about it?"

"Was the program bad or something?"

Mike sighed, but to his surprise, the truth flowed off his chest a little more freely than he could have anticipated. "Honestly? It was pretty terrible. Well, not exactly. I guess _it_ wasn't terrible," his next words were deadly quiet, "More like _I_ was terrible."

"You were terrible." Will repeated, confusion danced in his tone.

"It was basically just three months of me fighting with the language."

"Really? I thought you were good at Italian."

The laugh that cut from Mike's lips was cold. "Yeah, so, funny story. Being good at Italian in school and speaking Italian with natives are two totally different things. I learned that the hard way."

"Really?" Will said, "So, you just couldn't follow the lectures or something? There wasn't like a translator or anything? Or classmates?"

Mike shrugged. "Not really. There weren't really any language resources. It was a science program. And it was hard to uh…" he forced out the last bit, "get to know anyone in my classes."

"You didn't even meet anyone?" Will asked, his surprise escalating.

Mike's heart began to race as a shimmer of shame traced down his skin. He didn't reply.

Will fell quiet for a moment, and when he did speak again he was more muted. "Sorry for all the questions. I'm just surprised."

"It's not like I didn't meet anyone," Mike retorted dryly. "I did meet one cool person. It was just… that didn't work out either."

She flashed through his mind unbidden, in striking color, wiping away the vision of the road before him for a split second.

He shook his head and attempted to recommit his focus to his driving.

"Didn't work out?"

_God, couldn't Will just let it lie? _

"I just… I lost track of her."

"Oh. Her, huh?"

_Yes. Her. _

_With her soft lips and doe eyes. With her laugh that he could almost still hear, like a shadow in his mind. With her smile that put him bizarrely, unexplainably, at ease. With that __**sense**_ _about her… that seemed to make him stand taller, and feel braver, almost in an instant. _

Will snickered.

"What?" Mike murmured.

"Nothing. You just got really quiet really fast."

"I'm focusing on driving in this treacherous weather," Mike bit back dryly, "You know, making sure we don't get killed?"

"No, you're doing that thing where you shut up the second you get to something you don't want to talk about."

Mike shot Will a dark look, "Maybe that's because I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?" Will asked, but softer this time.

Mike's fingers tightened on the wheel. "It's a long story."

"Bad story?"

"...No," Mike found himself conceding.

It wasn't a bad story, actually. Not at all. In fact, for a full two days he'd felt like it wasn't just a good story, but the _best_ story. He attempted to squash the thought, to bring himself back to the present moment, to everything that happened next, but a little bit of it broke through his barrier, quirking up the corner of his lip against his will. "It started as a good story."

"Yeah, I figured."

"What?"

"You're doing that thing when you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling," _**why**_ _did Mike keep friends that knew him so well_, "Who's the girl?"

Mike huffed and accepted his fate, but the hard fought smile stayed lingering on his lips. "Fine. She was a girl I met in the airport on the way home."

"She was on your flight?"

"No. Well, kind of. She was supposed to be until it got cancelled. We uh…" Mike pushed out a breath as heat began to crawl up his neck, "God, okay, I'm warning you because this story is ridiculous. The airline accidentally booked us in the same hotel room."

"Wait, _what_?"

"Yeah. Well, the airline didn't exactly do it." It was incredible how hot Mike's face was beginning to feel despite how cold it was in his car, "More like _I_ accidentally booked us into the same hotel room, with my terrible Italian."

Will was incredulous, the dangerous outside world momentarily seemed to fade from his attention, "_What? _You just _happened_ to have to stay the night with some random girl?"

"She wasn't some random girl," Mike retorted immediately.

"Okay," Will laughed in reply, "So you stayed the night with some non-random girl?"

"We um…" Oh, how Mike wished he could take his hands off the wheel in order to take off his now sweltering coat, "We did more than stay the night in the same room."

"What?!" Will yelped.

At that, Mike chuckled. A bit of lightness eased through him, and with it a whispering vision of being with her lapped at his memory.

His knuckles tightened upon the wheel once again.

"You waited a whole week to tell me about this," Will stated, dumbfounded.

"You've hardly been home this week. Plus, I uh…" another big sigh escaped Mike's lungs, "I didn't really want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because it didn't end well." And with the admission, the glorious bubble of memory snapped, and reality returned. "She was awesome. Just… things got crazy at the end and I think she gave me her old number by mistake."

Will sucked air through his teeth. His voice was hesitant as he continued, "Are you sure it was a mistake?"

Mike rolled his eyes, but something in his stomach roiled in an uneasy way, "I don't know. But I think so? She seemed pretty excited to give me her number. She grabbed my arm and wrote it on me when she couldn't find paper."

"Oh, that's...okay," Will replied thoughtfully, "Maybe you can find her using her name?"

"Believe me, I've tried, but," Mike bit back a now-familiar growl, "I don't know her full name."

"_What_?" Will gasped, "You slept with a girl without knowing her full name? You. That's completely unlike you."

"Yeah, and it was probably a bad call!" Mike retorted in a jarring burst of frustration. The smile that had crept to his lips had long since drained away. Familiar regret was beginning to pool once again, causing his chest to tighten. "Can we stop talking about this?"

"Yeah," Will said immediately, "Sorry. This really has you messed up, doesn't it?"

"I really liked her." Mike said softly. "It seemed like... something. I think. It sucks."

"Was she from Chicago?" Will asked, a hopeful lilt entering his tone, "Maybe you'll run into her?"

"No, she's from here. Indianapolis, I think."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well…" Will's hand appeared on Mike's shoulder with a friendly pat, "Maybe she'll show up when you least expect it."

"Right," Mike replied blandly. "I'm not holding my breath."

The sightline of the road cleared for the quickest of moments, offering Mike a glimpse of the familiar turn that led to Hawkins.

"We're not far off," he said, nodding forward, "I see the turn off for 13 up there."

"Oh, awesome," Will pushed out a breath of relief, and when he continued, Mike was relieved to hear a change of subject. "Well, hey. Since you're not really looking forward to going home, feel free to escape to my place anytime this week."

"Yeah, I'll definitely take you up on that," Mike said. His skin crawled with now familiar dread at the idea of one too many quiet dinners with his parents. Their eyes on him, judging, disappointed, regretful. He pushed it down. "When's Jonathan getting in?"

"He's not. Tickets from New York were too expensive."

"Oh, really? That sucks."

"Yeah, it'll be weird. Especially because this is the first year that mom's got Jim living with her."

"Oh shit, that's right," Mike said, "I forgot they got married."

"Oh, right. You missed it. It was a nice wedding, I guess. Mom's happy, so that's good."

"So it'll just be you, your mom, and Jim?"

"And Jim's daughter, I think."

Picturing Will with any kind of step sister was so odd that Mike couldn't even process it.

"She'll be there? What's she like? Will that be weird?"

"I don't know if Jane is there right now," Will replied quizzically, "She's traveling or something. She's supposedly going to be around for Christmas, though, at least at some point. She was actually supposed to crash at our place for a night when she got back, but it didn't happen for some reason. So, I don't know where she is. Jane's nice enough, though. She's always really quiet, so I'm guessing it'll be like she's not even there. Anyway, it won't be bad. I like Jim and Jane enough. It'll definitely be weird, though. Different. So really, come over anytime this week."

"Maybe I can hide at your place after Christmas."

"Sure, just drop on by. I probably won't be doing anything other than hanging out with my mom."

Mike slowed down as the turn neared, but it wasn't quite slow enough. They both gasped as the car fishtailed a bit around the corner, sliding along the slick road until Mike was able to regain control. Will's hand was digging into the dashboard, his breath short.

Conversation promptly died, and Mike, a little bit rattled, forced his attention fully back onto the road. In a renewed, and more tense, silence, he stared directly down the path toward Hawkins. Snow was obscuring the concrete below them. Thin tracks cut through the caking white, just barely helping him see where to go.

Mile by mile, though, they made their way.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the tiniest bit of a sign that said 'Hawkins' became visible in his headlights.

"Oh, thank god," Will breathed.

Will's childhood home, on the outskirts of town, was not far away, and Mike knew the final steps like the back of his hand. It was very slow going on the under-plowed residential streets. After a few crawling turns, The Byers family mailbox illuminated itself in the headlights. It was half buried beneath a plowed pile of snow. The chipped blue metal was covered in icicles, but even in the dark storm, one detail was clear. It now longer said 'Byers'. An H-O-P-P was legible before a smear of snow obscured the rest.

Mike slowed and turned his car into the long curved driveway, only to push the brake almost immediately as the car groaned beneath him.

"Yeah, I'm not going to be able to get in. The snow is too high," Mike said. He pulled back out and eased the car to the shoulder of the road, pressing into a snowbank just enough to keep him safe from any oncoming traffic. Even that move was met with protestations from his car.

"It's fine," Will said, relief coating his words as the car stopped moving, "I can hike up."

"Alright." Mike stretched his arms up, finally letting loose some of the tension that had collected between his shoulders throughout the long drive, "Have a good Christmas. I'll probably come over on the 26th."

"Thanks, you too." Will reached to the back seat to grab his bag. "Are you sure you're good to drive the rest of the way?"

"I don't have much choice, do I? There's no real place to leave my car."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay. Well, drive safe. And thanks for driving. Sorry again that I made us late."

"It's okay, we made it."

Will swung his bag into his lap and pushed the door open. A snowbank stopped him immediately, only allowing him a few inches to crawl out. He shimmied his way out of the sliver of space between the car and the door. White powder came to his lower shins as he stood up.

"Oh fuck it's cold!" he barked.

"Well, shut the door then!" Mike cried with a laugh. A gust of wind cut through the car, hitting him directly in the face with an icy blast.

"Okay! Bye!" Will laughed back before he slammed the door.

The storm and darkness swallowed him almost immediately, making his ascent to the house invisible to Mike.

Exhaustion lapping at his mind, Mike scanned across the bleak vision of the drifts that surrounded him, hardly visible despite the headlights. White flakes swirled through the beams of the headlights, closing him in a cocoon of wintry isolation.

A particularly heavy gust rocked the car.

It was clear now, sitting still within the heart of the desolate storm, how lucky Mike had been to make it all the way to Hawkins at all.

It was definitely not a storm that an intelligent person would drive in.

But Mike? Mike knew now: He was clearly not an intelligent person.

No, Mike was the type of person who would drive 6 hours in a storm despite obvious better judgment. He was the type of person to almost flunk out of school, simply because he was too proud to ask for help or admit that he maybe wasn't as smart as he thought he was. He was the type of person to not even ask his dream girl for her goddamned last name after spending a perfect once-in-a-lifetime night with her.

Mike wasn't just unintelligent, he realized... Mike was a full on fucking idiot.

His forehead fell to the steering wheel with a heavy groan.

It was almost unfair how quickly his sour mood returned when he no longer needed to focus on driving. The lump that he had been trying to chase away from his throat was back with a vengeance, and now there was no chance of trying to chase it away again. For, he knew what laid just one mile ahead: His childhood bed. His mother's cooking. Days upon days of disappointed stares and awkward silence. The most definite end of his parent's financial support.

_How was he going to do this? _The thought came to him with a fresh surge of panic. It wasn't like this week was a bandaid that needed to be ripped off. It was a cataclysmic life shift. Turning away from security and stability, toward what he… wanted.

Yet, he had no idea how to survive and do that at the same time. Fuck, he'd never even had a real job.

Maybe this was a mistake, he thought quickly. He could decide here to change the entire plan, after all. He still had time. He could just abandon the plan here and go home like normal to plan the next step with his parents, just like they expected him to do.

_But her voice_, yet again, stopped him in his tracks.

"_You should do what you love. There's no better time to do it." _

It was like he'd been waiting for someone to give him permission, and now that it was there, playing on repeat in his mind in the most beautiful tone. He couldn't look away.

Still though, Mike couldn't bring himself to press his foot on the gas pedal to go home. He craved more time.

So instead, out of options, he just… sat there. In the storm. In the dead of night. In swirls of white and howling wind. Time seemed to fuzz at the edges. Exhausted and overstretched, his thoughts wandered along the only element of this whole situation that made him feel… hopeful.

Maybe he _could_ find her.

It sounded ridiculous. Yet, the pull within him was there all the same.

She was… close.

How close, he did not know. The mystery of her whereabouts itched at him as though she might be around any corner that he turned now that he was in Indiana. It was a tingling sensation, desperate and radiating from his chest, as though she would be in the next place that he thought to look.

Maybe he could drive down to Indianapolis after Christmas. Casually criss-cross the town. Duck into coffee shops or book stores or someplace where he could picture her spending time.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. That was a _terrible_ idea. A desperate hopeless idea, and way more creepy than he was willing to be.

Mike pressed his eyes shut as the hopeful surge crashed upon the jagged reality of the situation. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. It was now a painful knot, collecting all of his tension in a way that was impossible to ignore.

He knew the obvious answer.

It had been over a week.

It wasn't time to go to Indianapolis.

It was time to go in the opposite direction.

It was time to forget about her.

...He almost wished that he could.

And he probably could have if it hadn't been for the feeling that had overcome him in the airport.

The need, so fresh, so _visceral_, that had coursed through him as she ran toward her flight. The confidence he'd felt as he ran after her, and not thinking at all, pulled her into a kiss one more time because _God_ he would have done anything to keep kissing her forever. The glistening glow of her wide eyes, looking up into his, her voice thick and earnest as she simply said, 'Call me.'

He'd tried.

Oh God, how he'd tried.

But she was nowhere to be found.

A violent whip of wind smacked into the car, shaking it in a way that rushed him back to reality. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock. 3:44am.

"Shit… How long have I been here?"

With a long exhalation he trained his eyes back onto the almost invisible road and shifted the car into drive. The car lurched forward with a tap of the gas. Yet almost instantly… it stopped.

He pushed harder on the gas. The car lurched. The tires squealed with protest.

"Shit!"

Mike tossed the car into reverse in order to gain some leverage. Yet still, there was hardly any movement. Back and forth and back and forth, Mike tried to free his car from its snowy prison, jerking the wheel this way and that to get out of whatever patch of snow he was stuck in, but it was no use. His car, only just barely on the shoulder of the road, was absolutely buried into the freshly fallen snow.

A tremor of helplessness shot through him with a pitiful moan. In an instant, though, he sprung into action. He threw himself over the passenger seat and fished out a tiny flashlight from his glove box. Taking a deep final breath of warm air, he turned off the car. And with a grimace of anticipation for the cold that was about to come, he opened his door and stepped out into the stormy night, his thin sneakers plunging into shin deep snow.

The cold wind cut into him almost instantly. His hands were gloveless and his hood was no match for the storm. He slammed his door and shined the flashlight upon his wheels. It was immediately clear that he had sat idle for too long. Snow had collected in drifts around his tires, blowing through the street until it stopped against the bumper and tires, creating a wedge that was strong and impenetrable.

There was no easy way of getting the car out without help. And given the fact that it was almost four AM, there was no way that was happening until morning.

Cursing under his breath, Mike wrenched his hood tight around his head and bounded around the immobilized car. The weak beam of his flashlight fell upon slight indentations that had once been Will's footsteps. The imprints were almost entirely filled with fresh snow, serving as a marker for how much precious time Mike had let pass while he sat idle in the car. One by one, he let his feet drop into Will's old footfalls toward the house. The indentations allowed for the slightest reprieve from the icy wetness that was seeping through his shoes, but not much.

He pushed his free hand into his pocket as deep as it would go and trudged up the long tree lined driveway within the weak beam of light. By the time he rounded the drive and spotted the house, with its single porch light beckoning weakly through the storm, his shoes and socks had been soaked through. His toes were burning as much as the tip of his nose, as much as the bare hand that he was using to hold the flashlight.

His teeth were beginning to chatter. His fingers were beginning to shake.

Hunched over against the wind, he ran the rest of the way, tripping in two snowbanks as he went. Finally, he made his way up the small steps of the porch and... _of course_… found the door locked.

Cursing under his breath, he tried to piece out what to do. The wind was ripping through the trees, causing so much noise that it was likely knocking at the windows inside the old house. It was a sound that would very likely make it impossible for his own knocks to be heard, especially this far from the bedrooms.

He tried anyway, knocking his ice cold fist against the screen door.

As he expected, nothing stirred.

Thinking fast, Mike rushed off of the porch and made his way for the kitchen door on the side of the house. That had always been the easiest way into the house, anyway. It was nothing more than an old thin wobbly door in a rickety frame, and had usually been unlocked when he'd been a kid.

By luck of the wind direction, this side of the house was not quite as buried, and Mike had a slightly easier go of it as he rounded the corner. His flashlight beam bounced from snow bank to snow back as he trudged along. He kicked the snow off of the steps as he went up to the door, making way for himself, but as soon as he laid his hand upon the cold metal of the doorknob, something was obvious: The door had been replaced. Gone was the old warped door. In its place was a standard modern door and frame.

The door didn't even jostle when he tried to push.

"_Fuuuuuck..._" Mike breathed with a chattering shudder. He wrenched his hand away from the door handle as the cold metal began to burn against his skin.

A thread of panic itched at the back of his mind. It was so cold, and it was going to stay that way.

He had to get inside.

It was possible he could bang on Will's window, on the other side of the house. Or -

With a gasp, Mike whipped around toward a window ten feet away. A gleam of memory sparked in his thoughts. Nancy. Crawling through Jonathan's window all those years ago. She'd joked about how they'd broken the latch so that she could come and go as she pleased.

And that potentially busted window latch was just a few yards behind him.

Judging by the new door, it was very possible that the window issue no longer existed, but… it was definitely worth a try.

Mike didn't even think as he moved in the direction of Jonathan's old room. The need to get out of the storm had overridden any of his remaining ability to create rational thoughts. All he could think about was the blistering cold of his feet, the numb sensation taking over his hands, the chattering of his teeth, the screaming wind ripping at his cheeks, and his desperate need for warmth.

Mike moved with urgency through the snow that was piling against the house. When the window to Jonathan's room finally appeared before him, his heart was beating with such frenzy that he could hardly breathe.

"_Please work._"

He put the tiny flashlight between his teeth. The thin beam of light splayed upon the crystalized ice on the window. His fingers stung as he laid them against the icy glass and tried to push the window up. The window was sticky with cold, but Mike successfully found a way to jimmy it back and forth, finally cracking the ice. Shavings fell on his hands as he forced it up and open.

A blessed wall of warm air rushed out to greet him from the pitch black room on the other side.

Breathing a massive sigh of relief, Mike bit down tight upon the flashlight to secure it, pushed himself up onto his shaky frozen hands, and began to lift himself into the room. His arms wobbled but he succeeded in pulling his body up to meet the window sill. The heat flamed across his face like a beacon, and with renewed energy he hoisted himself inside, rocking his hip up to clear the sill with his leg. His hand scrambled against the ink black inner wall for support as he leaned down and cleared the window sill, and began to shift his weight into the room.

His foot touched the safe security of Jonathan's bedroom floor.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet, it was cut short.

Because at that very moment a gasp, _from another person_, cut through the air.

Mike looked over in surprise. The weak beam of flashlight streaked across the bed, and to his horror he saw someone move. Fast.

So fast.

And_, in an instant_, **so** painful.

"Ah!"

Mike cried out in shock as a foot smashed into his ribs, kicking him so hard with shockingly precise aim. Gasping in pain, he lost his balance and tumbled the rest of the way through the window. The flashlight flew from his teeth, sending a streak of disorienting light across his vision as he crashed with messy limbs into the thin space between the wall and the bed.

All at the same time, above him, the bed creaked violently, a yelp sounded out, and with a heavy 'THUD', a body fell upon him.

Disoriented and panicked, Mike tried to right himself, but the body pressing into him recovered their wits more quickly. Before Mike had the chance to even draw a fresh breath, limbs scrambled across him and a forearm pushed into his neck, blocking his airway, making him choke. Another hand pinned his arm, small warm fingers scrabbling for grip before they pushed down on him with shocking force.

"DAD!" The voice, _a girl_, called at the top of her lungs.

_Dad?_

_Shit!_

The gears in Mike's mind clicked with a surge of panicked sickness.

He had just broken in on Will's stepsister.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?" she growled, her menace terrifying.

Mike panted against her arm pressing into his neck. "M-Mike!" He managed to spit out, "I-I'm Will's friend! Mike!"

The girl… Will's stepsister… _Jane?..._ didn't respond.

Mike sucked in a breath of hot dry air, stinging his throat against the constriction of her arm. "Will's roommate Mike!" He continued, his voice high and tight, his eyes squeezed shut, "I'm so sorry! My car - It's stuck - In the drive - I -"

"Mike…?"

His name fell from her in a soft and airy tone, so radically different from the terrifying bark she'd had just seconds before. "Don't move," she commanded.

Jane didn't have to worry. Mike never would have dared move in this situation.

Her knee pressed into the center of his stomach as she leaned over him. With catlike reflexes, she released his arm and swiped the flashlight from the floor. Before he could comprehend what was happening, the beam shone directly into his eyes. Mike winced, pressing his eyes shut against the blinding light.

"Oh my God…" she breathed. "Mike."

A different kind of shock colored her words, but Mike's frozen and frightened brain could not keep up. He could only tell that her arm left his neck almost immediately. He heaved a mercifully deep breath as his airway reopened.

She sat back on his thighs, and for a second she just stayed there in silence, breathing heavily behind the beam cutting into his eyes.

Nothing was making sense. Everything felt upside down. Yet, Mike tried to push through the confusion with scrambling words. "Yeah, I'm Mike. I'm _so_ sorry!" he pleaded, squinting his eyes open to address her directly, a dark shadow behind the light, "This is a big misunderstanding! I didn't mean to - scare you - I - You're Will's stepsister. You're… Jane?"

"You know Will."

She did not phrase it as a question.

"Yeah!" Mike practically yelped, "I know Will. I have since I was five. I promise. We live together in Chicago. We drove home in the storm and my car got stuck but Will had already come inside and I couldn't get in and it was freezing and I - I wasn't thinking - I thought this room would be, you know, empty? Since Jonathan wasn't coming home, you know? I should've realized you might be in here. Please, I'm so sorry to scare you like this I - "

"- Mike - " she interrupted. An odd softness floated on his name, "It's okay." And with that, she slid off of him, giving him space to move.

Mike sprung up and backed away as quickly as he could to give her space. Stumbling around the bed in the dark, he darted to the other side of the room. Embarrassment began to overtake his fear. "I'm _really_ sorry. I'll just - I'll go and sleep on the couch," - his back fell against the door - "It's um… nice to meet you, Jane - I'm - _so_ \- sorry."

He scrambled for the doorknob with numb fingers.

"Mike, wait," she said with a breathy laugh.

Mike stopped in his tracks.

Her soft laugh, so odd and so out of place, hit his ears with such a jarring familiarity.

Slowly, quizzically, he turned back to her.

Just then, with a click, light filled the room.

And in that flash, all sense fell from Mike's mind.

Delicate fingers had flipped on a lamp on the bedside table. It was so crazy to think that those same small hands had just pinned him to the ground with such dangerous force.

But that was the least of his thoughts.

For as light illuminated what had been hidden in the dark, he had to check in with himself: Had he gotten a concussion when he fell through the window? Blacked out? Entered some dreamscape? Was hypothermia setting in? Had he maybe... died?

Because there was no way that what he was seeing was real.

There was no way that the girl who had just knocked him to the floor…. Will's step sister...

...was…

"El?"

"Hi," El whispered from the other side of the bed. She simply stood there. Cheeks pink, hair messy, pajamas crumpled and oversized, arms crossed over her chest to combat the cold wind coming from the open window behind her. Shock painted her expression, and he was sure that it was a mirror of his own.

Words tumbled from his lips in a daze.

"I've been looking for you everywhere… and you were _here_?"

Her eyes sparked wide, "You - you've been looking - "

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK _

"Kid?! What the hell is going on?!"

Mike jumped as a fist banged through the door, shattering the silence from directly behind him.

If El's eyes had been wide before, it was nothing compared to now.

She mouthed '_shit_!' with such animation that Mike's fear remounted in an instant. With a surprising limp, El rushed around the bed. A warning was clear in her eyes as she gestured wildly for Mike to hide against the wall while placing her finger to her lips to communicate that he needed to remain silent. Mike did as he was told, sliding away from the door and toward the wall with as much silence as he could muster.

El shot him a warning look before wiping every ounce of emotion from her face and easing the door open just the slightest amount.

"What?" she asked the man with the booming voice on the other side of the door. A convincing air of sleepiness had slipped into her tone.

"You alright?" the groggy man gruffed from the other side, mere inches from Mike, through the cheap hollow door.

Mike knew the voice.

He'd only met the man two or three times, yet he could picture him. Burly and intimidating, and one of the few people Mike had ever met who seemed to tower over him.

Joyce's new husband, Jim.

Jane's Dad…

_...El's_ Dad?

"Just a bad dream," El stuttered, her voice high and shaky.

"Sounded like one hell of a bad dream."

"I - uh - rolled out of the bed and fell on the ground. Did I - " she shook her head, and Mike watched her messy ponytail swing through the air, "Did I yell or something?"

"Screamed bloody murder, kid. Thought I heard voices, too. Real bad one this time, huh?"

"Huh… Yeah. I'm okay now, though. Just. Yeah. Voices, huh? Maybe that was just the wind?"

"You sure you're alright..." He repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced.

"Mmhmm," she nodded, "Just gonna go back to bed. Sorry I woke up."

"It's okay... Alright well… good night, kid."

"Night, Dad!"

And with that, El shut the door… and immediately flipped the lock.

Looking up from the door, she put her finger back to her lips and waved Mike to follow her. In a stunned daze, he did as he was told, keeping close behind her as she limped her way through the small bedroom, past haphazardly stacked boxes, around the messy bed, and back to the open window that was blistering with gusts of cold air. She pulled it shut as quietly as she could.

Once the offending cold air was banished, she turned to Mike abruptly.

The hazel sparkle of her eyes was radiant as she regarded him in the buzzing silence. Shadow from the dim lamp brushed across her cheek, falling upon her in a way that felt so intimate that the walls seemed to close in. She was so close now, and in that moment Mike became sure - he wasn't hallucinating.

For his memory was not good enough to conjure El in this much gorgeous detail.

Nothing made sense. Yet, it was... true?

She was here.

Despite the pain that was radiating from his ribs - Despite the burning cold that was still attacking his feet - Despite his exhaustion and confusion and outright shock... Mike found himself smiling.

"You're _Jane_?" he finally breathed, awestruck, "You're Will's stepsister?"

El nodded slowly, her eyes locked on him so intently, "Jane is my legal name." She shook her head and blinked hard, "This is crazy."

"Yeah, hey, I-I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Okay?" She asked quizzically.

"I just scared the shit out of you. When I, you know," he gestured awkwardly to the window, "and you're foot, it - "

"Oh," she huffed out a tight breath, blowing her hair as she did so, "Yeah, that wasn't exactly the most pleasant way to wake up. But I'm okay."

"I'm so sorry, El." Mike pleaded.

"It's okay," she said with the kindest smile, one that he clearly didn't deserve, "Are _you_ okay?"

"What?"

Her expression turned to one of curious amusement. "Your teeth are chattering and I just kicked you to the ground. Are you okay?"

"Uh…"

In that moment, she called attention to so many sensations that his shocked senses hadn't been able to focus on. His hands were still burning, as were his toes. A throbbing pain was radiating from his ribs where she had kicked him. A corresponding pain was clear in his shoulder where he'd taken the brunt of the fall.

And, she was right - he was aware of it only now - his chattering teeth had not stopped.

He was freezing.

El scanned down his body, and before he could keep up, she stepped forward and gingerly moved him out of the way so that she could pass through the thin space between him and the bed. Perplexed, he watched as she opened the top drawer of the dresser on the side wall. She rooted around until she pulled out a thick ball of socks. She did the same in the drawer below, pulling out a pair of flannel pajama pants.

Mike looked down at himself. At his shoes, still caked in snow. At his pants, drenched with icy water halfway up his shins. At the floor, the wet marks charting his every move through the room since he had fallen in.

"Here," El whispered, placing the clothes on the edge of the bed. "These were Jonathan's so I think they'll fit you okay, yeah? You should change, you can't keep those clothes on."

"Thank you," he said slowly.

"Are you hurt?"

Mike nodded. "I think a little. Not bad, but you've uh… you've got one wicked kick there."

"I'm so sorry," she moaned immediately, yet with the lightest laugh. It tickled his ears in a way that made him once again forget he was standing in ice laden shoes.

"It's okay." He replied with an easy laugh of his own. "How's your foot?"

"I'll deal with it," she said, waving off his worry. "Give me your shoes and coat. I'll go put them somewhere they can dry while you change."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to," she replied kindly, her breath heavy, her lips still parted in a flush of surprise.

It was all so very surreal, yet he nodded in acceptance of her help. Slowly, bemusedly, he sat down on the Jonathan's bed. No, _El's_ bed... With almost immovable fingers, he tugged off his shoes. His socks were pure wet sheets of ice, and they burned like holy hell when he stripped them off. He dropped them into his decimated shoes, feeling supremely vulnerable as El immediately swiped his shoes off of the floor.

"Coat, too."

Mike had no reason to argue. His wool coat had fared a little better, but it too was beginning to bleed into him with cold.

He looked up as he handed it to her, and almost had to remind himself again… this was El.

_El. _

The girl he thought he'd never see again, holding his clothes, in Jonathan Byers's old bedroom.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, stalling for a moment, her eyes scanning his face, before she finally moved and noiselessly eased her way out of the door.

And, as quickly as she'd appeared? She was gone.

Mike blinked, struggling to keep up. He scanned the room. Old posters of Jonathan's littered the walls. The wallpaper and the carpet and the furniture, it was all so anciently familiar. Yet, on top of the room's old effects, new things were clear. Boxes upon boxes were stacked in the corners. Soft loopy handwriting marked each one. In the final corner sat a familiar backpack; one he had seen on the floor of a different kind of bedroom on the other side of the planet. Beside it, draped over a half open cardboard box, was a soft maroon dress.

One that was utterly imprinted on his brain.

El might have no longer been visible, but her presence was all around him.

Mike shook his head with yet another surge of disbelief, and this time, jaw agape, he found himself laughing… until he winced.

Reaching up on instinct, he felt a growing welt under his right arm.

_From_ _**El's**_ _foot…_

He shook his head once again, blinking in quick succession to see if maybe he would wake up from this dream. But nothing happened. Her dress remained on the box. Her backpack looked still half packed from her trip. And her mark was now left on Mike's body...

Maybe Mike owed Will an apology, because he'd been right… El had certainly shown up when Mike had least expected it.

* * *

El worked to steady her hands as she placed a pair of impossibly wet shoes on top of the old furnace vent in the living room.

Mike's shoes.

Mike.

_Mike_, who had kissed her goodbye one week ago in an airport halfway across the world, never to be heard from again.

_**Mike**_, who had just fallen through her window in the middle of the night... as though she had conjured him out of thin air.

It had to be a dream.

Yet, her emotions were too thick, and much too real, for this to be anything but reality.

Plus, her foot was aching much too badly for this to be a dream.

But it was all was moving too fast! The swoop in her chest had been so intense, swinging like a pendulum from abject terror to soaring surprise, as she'd discovered the shocking truth of who had broken into her room window. She'd been shaken - _and relieved_ \- so intensely that she'd almost dropped the flashlight directly onto his face.

But truly - and maybe it had been wishful thinking - something in her had _known_ from the second he stuttered his own name in a terrified spree.

She'd only needed the flashlight to be sure.

At first, she thought he'd planned this, but that was washed away when she'd flipped on the light. For, the stamp of shock in his own expression had been paramount. He'd stared at her as though she was a ghost, his dark pupils blown. His thick eyebrows, dusted with snow, riding as high as possible on his forehead.

His words, so rudely cut off from her father, breathy and shocked…

"_I've been looking for you everywhere, and you were here?" _

Standing in the dark of the living room, she finally let his words wash over her. Her smiled painted her face in a way that could have lit up the dark living room.

If this was a dream? It was perfect.

And it likely was... because this couldn't have been real, right?

Mike couldn't have just fallen through her window… in the dead of night… in _Hawkins_, of all places?!

This man she met in Italy could _not_ be best friends with her new stepbrother?!

It was insane. Overblown.

Even for a dream it was ridiculous!

Nevertheless, the pain in her foot felt very real as she made her way back through the house. Slowly, she slipped into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door for light so that she could collect a rag from the counter and some ice from the dark freezer. Binding it up in a bundle with a chip clip magnet that was on the fridge, she made her way to her second stop, grabbing a glass of water.

Finally, she slipped into the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet, finding a small bottle of Aspirin. She popped one in hopes that it would take some of the swelling down in her foot, and just in case he was magically still in her room and this was all actually _real_, she shook an extra one into her hand.

Her heart began to beat with dizzying anticipation as she made her way back down the dark hall. Wind whipped at the house, whistling through the trees and tossing snow against the window at the end of the hall. Each footstep was awash with it, heavy hopes swirling in a growing storm. Because once she opened that door reality would become clear.

Though, in a way that made her knees weak, _she knew that it was_.

Hand trembling on the doorknob, she turned it slowly and stepped in the room.

And… there he was. Sitting on the edge of her bed. In fresh pajama pants and a tight forest green long sleeved thermal shirt. Looking just as shocked as her.

El worked to steady her breath as she eased the door shut, careful to ensure that the latch didn't echo through the hall.

"Hi," he said as she turned to him. The single word exposed a still light chatter from his teeth.

"Hi," she replied, her heart racing more than she knew what to do with. She hobbled forward, handing him the painkiller and glass of water. "It's Aspirin. I thought you might need it."

"Thank you," he said, taking it slowly. His cold fingers brushed her warm ones as he took the glass. She sat down gingerly on the bed beside him as he took the pill, pulling her foot over her knee to set the ice bundle upon what was starting to become a dark bruise across the top arch of her foot.

"Is it bad?" he asked trepidatiously.

El shrugged, "I don't think anything's broken. It's just… I'm used to kicking punching bags, not human bodies. You're a little bonier."

"I'm so sorry, El," Mike said, pure agony in his words, " I should've thought about it better. I knew Will's sister might be here, I was just so cold I was starting to panic and I knew I could get in this window and that Jonathan wasn't home. I just wasn't thinking," he looked at her directly then, worry lacing his brow, "I "I would never want to scare you like that."

His apology hung in the air. And it wasn't that El wanted to leave him hanging... it was just that she kind of froze. Mike was so close. Just half a whisper away. His lips were chapped from windburn. His cheeks were smarting with splotchy red, juxtaposing the ghostly cold pale of his cold skin. Ice was still flecked in his eyebrows. The streaked white was so complimentary to the depths of his shining dark eyes.

God, he was so much cuter than she'd even remembered.

"It's okay," she managed to say, "Plus, you probably have a matching mark, right?" She held up the ice, "Do you need some of this?"

Mike shook his head, "I don't think my body could take any more cold right now, I'm cold enough as it is. But yeah," he lightly touched the spot under his arm where she kicked him, wincing a bit as he did so, "You definitely left a couple marks. You're…" he looked away with a shy smile, "You're _very_ strong."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No!" He shook his head immediately, "Not at all. I'm just saying you know how to take care of yourself. That's good. And I'm really really _really_ sorry I made you have to demonstrate that."

El chuckled. "I told you I kickbox, remember? And my Dad's a cop, so I'm obviously trained in self defense."

Mike exhaled deeply, "Oh, I remember. And I'm definitely not going to forget now." And his eyes, still wide, became a little less shocked. A warmth was beginning to fill them, and despite how cold she felt without her blanket in a drafty room, she felt herself heat up a bit.

"You've definitely proved yourself to be a great ally if we got sent back in time, though," he added, a sense of something personal entering his expression, "Really, it'd be smart if you rethought this alliance you agreed to."

El fought back a smile, but she was powerless against it. The memory. The conversation. A week ago and a half a world away.

It struck her, hard, pulling it all together.

And finally, it clicked.

This was, _somehow_, reality.

Her heart shot up with a fresh set of heavy beats

"No, you're totally a worthy ally," she replied, no longer trying to fight back her smile.

"You sure about that?" he asked, his eyebrow raising.

"Yeah," she reassured him, "You know how to show up at the right place at the right time."

"What?"

Her words almost stuck in her throat, but a push of bravery kept them moving. "I'm just…" she looked away as her smile grew, "I'm just happy to see you. That's all."

Mike was silent for a moment, and the air around them grew thick. "I tried to call you, El," he said, with a new sense of urgency, "I did. but - "

"I know." She interrupted, her heart now racing without a stop in sight, "I figured it out. I gave you my old number."

"Yeah…" His reply was hesitant, but she could read his eyes. In a spin, her stomach dropped.

"It was an accident!" She yelped, before instantly remembering to lower her voice. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I did that until a couple of days ago. I wasn't trying to blow you off. I promise. I wanted to hear from you."

"Oh…" he breathed, "Good." Something released in his expression. "I thought so. I wasn't sure...but -"

"Yeah! I did. I tried to call the guy with my old number when I realized. I thought maybe you'd left your number with him, but -"

"- But he's a grade A asshole?" Mike offered, his expression immediately turning sour.

"Yes, oh my god," she nodded in a surge of agreement, "He told me you called. Or, I guess it's more like he blamed me for you calling and interrupting his life."

"Yeah that sounds about right." Mike said, rolling his eyes.

"Is that what you meant?" she asked, "When you said you'd been looking for me?"

"What?"

"Earlier," she couldn't hide the hopefulness creeping into her voice, "What you said when you realized it was me."

Mike cringed, "Oh God, that probably made me sound like a stalker." He looked away as he forced out a few non committal words. "Yeah, I might have tried to see if I could get ahold of you another way."

El didn't say anything in reply.

It all felt so awkward, and delicious, and overwhelming. Mike clearly wasn't good at hiding his feelings, because she could see everything in his expression. And in that moment it became painfully clear that El hadn't been the only one bothered by the turn of events over the past week. Her heart went out to him. And she felt… grateful. For the fact that maybe she hadn't been entirely alone in her feelings? That felt… really nice.

"How have you been?" she asked, changing the subject to try to relieve some of his discomfort.

"Oh," he replied, bouncing out of what seemed like a trance, "Good, I guess."

"Did you have bad jet lag?"

"I definitely kept weird hours for a few days, yeah. You?"

El nodded, "Same. Joyce started making me meals that I could heat up in the middle of the night since I was mostly just eating Eggos and Mac and Cheese at 3am."

Mike laughed, shaking his head once again, "It's going to take me a while to get used to the fact that you know Mrs. Byers."

"Mrs. Hopper, now," El corrected.

"Right. That's going to take some getting used to, too. I've been calling her Mrs. Byers my whole life. Maybe it's finally time I give in and start calling her Joyce."

"That's what I call her," El said with a shrug.

Mike didn't reply for a moment. He simply looked at her and blinked, biting his lip before he spoke again. "What have you been up to?" He asked, "Are you getting to know Hawkins alright? Since you're somehow in... Hawkins?" he shook his head once again.

El tried to stop her face from falling flat, but she wasn't sure if she succeeded. "I wouldn't say I've been getting to know it. More so, I've been mailing out a bunch of job applications so I can get out of this town as quickly as possible. No offense."

"Oh," he chuckled and animatedly waved her worries away with the brush of a hand, "None taken. Honestly, I'd be worried about you if you weren't trying to run from here immediately."

El laughed, "You have that much love for your hometown, huh? This is your hometown, right?"

"Yeah, I was born here, I mean, I don't _hate_ it here," he replied, "But it's not a place to be right after college."

"Tell me about it," she said with a laugh.

Mike smiled, and in a stunning rush of sensation, El almost felt like she was back to sitting on the edge of another bed, thousands of miles away, talking so easily in the dead of night. She reveled in the sensation. One so unique... the simple effortless that she felt when talking to him.

"So, are you trying to find work back in Indianapolis, then?" He asked, pulling her back from her thoughts.

"Oh, you know, a few cities around the region," she said vaguely. The application to Chicago danced in her mind, but she didn't let that detail slip. "But yeah, that's pretty much it for me. How have you been? Since you got back?"

"I uh… I've been okay." He chuckled darkly, "I've mostly been preparing to tell my parents that I'm not going back to school."

"Oh. You're not?"

"No," he said with a bleak shake of his head, "That might be why I got stuck in the driveway. I'm kind of dreading going home."

"They're not going to take it well?"

"Probably not, no."

"Why not?"

Mike sighed, and leaned back a bit into the bed, "My parents… or at least my Dad… he has a very clear idea of how the world is supposed to work and what you're supposed to do in it. He was already pretty annoyed when I went to undergrad for something 'useless', his words not mine, and I think he thought he had me convinced to go to grad school for something he deemed useful. I just… Yeah, if Italy taught me anything it's that I'm not interested in that. So now I have to tell them."

El fought back the urge to touch his arm, "You shouldn't have to do something just because your parents want you to."

"Yeah, I know. It's not going to stop me. Telling them is just going to make for a shitty week," he breathed deeply, and El noticed that the red of his nose was beginning to even out. The chatter in his teeth was now long gone. It relieved a worry she didn't know she was holding. "So, yeah. There's that. And then I have to figure out what I'm going to do for work now while I - " he looked back to her again, hesitantly, as though the words felt odd to say, "While I write."

"That's great." She replied.

"Yeah, I'm a bit nervous about it," he admitted, "I didn't work in college so I don't really have a job resume or anything. And I definitely can't move home."

"Oh wow, that would be your first job?"

"Other than TA-ing, yeah." Mike replied, avoiding her eyes. "That probably sounds pathetic."

"No-"

"It's just - I had a full ride to school. So, my parents floated me for basic stuff so I didn't need a job," he let out a tight breath, "But they're definitely not going to continue doing that."

"You can get a job," El replied easily, "Maybe you could look at bookstores or game shops? You mentioned you had places like that that you liked in Chicago? Those places don't usually require work experience."

Mike looked up, blinking in surprise. "That's a really good idea. Thanks."

El smiled, "Yeah. It's great you're doing it, by the way. You know, if it's what you want to do."

"It is," Mike said.

"What made you decide? Not to go back to school?"

He stared at her for a moment in surprise. "You." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Me?"

"I - " he paused and took a deep breath. "What you said. At dinner. You got through to me. I think I needed someone to say that to me, and you made a really good case. So, thank you."

"Oh," El felt herself beginning to blush, "Sure."

Mike smiled softly, there was a softness in his expression that made her simply want to melt. "It's really good to see you, El," He breathed.

The air began to feel thick, and despite the storm racking against the house, everything felt warm. Just like before, she marveled at his eyes. So deep and dark and kind, holding so many stories that she so desperately wanted to know.

"Where did you look? When my number didn't work?" she asked, the question slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

Mike groaned in an obvious surge of embarrassment, "Are you trying to torture me? I only admitted that because I was in complete shock."

El giggled, "I'm sorry. I just want to know."

He shot her a pleading look before he finally gave in, "I started with the operator. Your old number was unlisted, by the way."

"My Dad's a cop, so yeah. Did you check anywhere else?"

Mike dropped his head, but he was smiling again, and the red of his cheeks was changing from cold to heat, "Yeah, but I never got far because I didn't know your full name."

"We probably should have traded those."

Mike rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Yeah, that definitely would've made things easier."

"What else did you try?"

He shot her a desperate look, "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I'm just curious!"

"I tried to call IU. In the social work department? But they wouldn't give me anything on past students."

"Oh..."

"And…" Mike full on cringed, his voice lowered with the most tortured admission, "And then I tried the Indianapolis police department."

"You called the police?!" El yelped in surprise.

"I thought your dad might work there!" He retorted.

"Not anymore! My dad is the Chief of Police here in Hawkins now."

"Wow. That is so crazy."

"Not as crazy as you calling the police for a phone number!"

He shot her a look so pitiful that she instantly took it back.

"I'm sorry, I just… I'm flattered." She looked down at her foot as an admission of her own bubbled on her lips, "If it makes you feel better, I almost considered meeting up with the guy who has my old number in exchange for your phone number."

Mike's eyes popped wide, "Wait, what?"

"I left him a message two days ago with my number, asking him to pass it onto you if he heard from you again, because I - I heard his answering machine recording? Did you hear it?"

"The one that called me a loser?" Mike said shortly, "Yeah. I heard that one."

El gritted her teeth in regret, "Sorry, I forgot about that part. But, he called me back tonight and said he'd help me if I gave him an hour of my time." The playfulness drained from her voice in an instant. "I'm pretty sure he didn't mean for polite conversation."

"What?!" Mike barked in surprise. His eyes went wide at his exclamation and he immediately lowered his voice to continue. "That asshole! You weren't going to do that, were you?"

"No, I mean I considered it for like half a second, but obviously I didn't trust him."

"Yeah, of course not. That guy is the worst. That's disgusting of him, El," Mike said soberly, "I'm so sorry."

El smiled gratefully. "It's okay. Plus, it seems like we didn't need his help, anyway."

Mike didn't reply to that. It seemed he was still stuck on the last detail. "You're okay? After he said that?"

"Yeah. I mean, I feel pretty confident that I can take care of myself, so assholes like that don't usually phase me, at least not too much."

"Still, though," he replied. "That's so wrong. I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do it," she said, but a wave of appreciation came over her nonetheless. This time, she did reach out and touch his arm. It felt easy in the moment. Natural. As natural as what she was about to say. It was so odd, the ease that was coming over her. Maybe it was the week, laying bare the true strength of her feelings, and now contracting on itself in stunning relief, dropping him right in her path. But she felt… brave. Sure. Safe. "I was more upset that the guy wouldn't help me, because I didn't know where to start after I realized I'd fucked up. I really wanted to figure out a way to find you."

Mike looked up and bit his lip to hold back a smile, "I hear calling the police is a good place to start."

El busted with an unexpected laugh, stifling herself almost immediately, but she found herself beaming, her smile so big it hurt her cheeks.

Mike met her with a smile of his own, "El?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your name? Your full name?"

"Jane Eleanor Hopper. You?"

Mike continued to hold her gaze. "Michael Theodore Wheeler."

Of course it was. The name hit her ears like she had known it all of her life.

"It's nice to meet you," she said, holding out her hand playfully.

He took it within his, "You, too," he whispered, his gaze soft and steady. He didn't let go.

The cold of his hand sparked her consciousness, and she regarded him with the utmost awareness. He was smiling, looking tired and cold and soft and so incredibly kind.

Perfect.

It felt so simple, so _easy_, to lean toward him as her eyes slipped shut.

She wasn't surprised at all to find his windburned lips meet hers halfway.

She had dreamed about this moment since the second she had left him at the airport, and she gave into it immediately. He let out the lightest moan upon her lips, and a sense of need entered his movements. He dropped her hand and brushed her face, giving her something cold and comforting to lean into as she kissed him deeper.

After a moment, his lips slowed. They moved softly with hers in a way that made her ache, before he pulled away ever so slightly.

"I…" his breath was heavy and overwhelmed, "I didn't think I was going to get the chance to kiss you again." His finger tenderly brushed the hair from her face as he whispered, "El, this is so crazy."

"Yeah," El agreed. She pulled herself closer into him, "hasn't this whole thing been crazy, though?"

"So crazy," he breathed a laugh, his forehead finding hers, "I like this crazy, though."

"Me too," she said, her words muffling as she pulled him back into her. He moved so carefully, holding her into him with a reverence that she couldn't deny.

It was that quality about him that was undeniable. This… caring. The way he held her. Looked at her. Spoke to her. It conjured something in her that felt so unique. She never wanted it to stop.

And somehow, through some absolutely miraculous twist of fate, she had been given a second chance at it.

She'd be damned if she was going to let this time slip through her fingers again.

Fingers finding the cloth of his shirt, El pulled Mike slowly down onto the bed.

They didn't talk for a while after that.

* * *

Never in a million years would Mike have bet on this reality. Holding El as the sun rose on Christmas Eve in Jonathan Byers's old bedroom. It felt just like Italy, one week before. There were differences, sure. They were clothed this time, and the sun was dimmer. The rays from the window dusted over her face in the softest way. Yet, the essence was the same. The bizarre sense of comfort he felt as she laid upon his shoulder. The calming scent of her hair as it brushed against his cheek.

He couldn't believe his luck.

It had been a dizzying swing. Topsy turvy turns from the worst to the best and back again. Yet this time, something about this felt… solid. Steady. As though the maddening swirl of his luck had simply stopped, leaving him here. Exactly where he wanted to be.

But there were details that had to be hashed out, even in a perfect moment.

"El?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Are you asleep?"

"Not really."

"Um... " the sun made him ask questions that he hadn't thought about through the night. "What are we going to do when everyone wakes up?"

"Hmm..." She moved against him, coming up onto her elbow to meet his eyes. She looked adorably sleepy, with puffy eyes and frizzy hair, her lips still flushed by his actions. "I'll admit, if my dad finds out you've been in my room all night you might not survive the morning."

"Really?"

"He's… very protective," she said with an eye roll.

"Is that why you didn't say anything when he checked on you last night?"

"Oh yeah," she replied adamantly, "He would've pulled a shotgun on you if he'd known what had happened."

"Shit, really?" Mike asked in surprise.

El smirked, her finger poking him lightly in the side. "I mean, you did break into his house."

"But I've met him before. A few times. He knows who I am."

"You haven't met him in _this_ capacity, though," she said, gesturing to herself.

"Oh, got it."

"Have you told Will? About Italy?"

"Not in detail. Not your name, I don't think. But I did mention the basics."

"The basics?"

"Airline messed up. I speak terrible Italian. I hooked up with a girl in a hotel room and we lost touch, which sucked terribly."

"Mmm, yes that did suck terribly," she replied with a simple peck on his lips, "Do you think he'd be weird about this?"

"He might be? Or maybe not? Will can be surprising."

"Okay," she chewed her lip in consideration before stating her consensus, "maybe we shouldn't mention this to anyone, then."

"To anyone?" Mike replied, his throat tightening.

El seemed to pick up on his tension. "Is that okay?" she asked softly, "How do you feel about that? You know, just for now?"

It didn't feel okay. If Mike had his way he'd crawl on the house and shout from the rooftop. But, she had a point. And if it was… _just for now_…

"It would probably be a hell of a lot less confusing for everyone else," he nodded in agreement, "So, this is all a secret, then?"

"Yeah, I guess," El's fingers found his with such natural ease, "This is kind of fun in a way, though, you know? Sneaking around. Foreign countries. Falling through windows in the middle of the night. Sordid."

Mike cracked a smile, "Well, when you put it that way it sounds kind of awesome."

"Plus, this way you'll get out of this house alive," she said the terrifying words with a playful wink.

"I would appreciate that," Mike conceded. "Well, I should probably go sleep on the couch if we're going to make this a secret, then."

El moaned in protestation.

"You don't want me to?"

"Of course not," she admitted with a sly smile, "But you're speaking sense."

Mike's heart purred at El's forward honesty.

"Hey, Mike?" She whispered, once again lying her head lazily on his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

Her sleepy smile widened as she spoke. "Thanks for falling through my window last night."

"Thanks for being on the other side of that window last night."

"Anytime."

And then, El moved forward and pressed her smile against his. He gave into her immediately, running his hand up her back, her t-shirt getting caught between his fingers, brushing it out of the way to trace up her vertebrae. She shivered and leaned into him, her lips dropping further into his with languid ease.

It was almost impossible to pull away, but the thought of being caught in the bedroom of the daughter of the Chief of Police made him succeed in doing so. Grabbing a pillow for the couch, he finally made his way out of the bed.

"Take that blanket on the boxes over there," El said, pointing to the corner. Mike nodded and did as he was told before making a move to the door.

"Hey, Mike?"

Mike turned to find her sleepy smile directed toward him once again. She looked so beautiful in the dawn light. Her wavy hair fanned the pillow. Her cheeks were rosy and warm as she burrowed beneath the covers.

How in the world had he found himself here again?

Scratch that - How had he found himself here _at all_?

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good _morning_," he corrected playfully.

She replied with a glorious smile as her fingers peeked out from the edge of her blanket to wave him goodbye.

There was no controlling his expression. Mike simply beamed in reply.

And at that moment, he felt it...

He was slipping. Into something he didn't quite have words for. Slipping at a speed that he didn't know how to regulate. She felt undeniable, and he felt no choice but to surrender to where it was going to take him.

And surrender he would. Gladly.

* * *

One chapter left! Thanks so much for reading, friends. I hope you are all well. Let me know how you're doing and how this little reunion went for you in the comments :)

\- L -


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